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TENNESSEE.
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[ SECOND EDITION ]
C .
co. aytch;
MAURY GRAYS,
First Tennessee Regiment;
OR,
A SIDE SHOW OF THE BIG SHOW.
By SAM. R. WATKINS,
COLl'MBIA. TENN.
' Quaeque ipse miserima virfi.
El Quorum pars iiiinnid fiii.'
ec£
CHATTANOOGA, TENN. :
TIMES PRINTING COMPANT.
1900.
^
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l<*t W3Z
PUBLISHER'S NOTICE.
Eighteen years ago, the first edition of this book, "Co. H.,
First Tennessee Regiment," was published by the author, Mr.
Sam. R. Watkins, of Columbia, Tenn. A limited edition of
two thousand copies was printed and sold. For nearly twenty
years this work has been out of print and the owners of copies
of it hold them so precious that it is impossible to purchase
one. To meet a demand, so strong as to be almost irresistable
the Chattanooga Times has printed a second edition of 2000
copies, which to soldiers of the Army of the Tennessee and
the Army of the Cumberland, between whom many battles
were fought, it will prove of intense interest, serving to re-
call many scenes and incidents of battle field and camp in
which they were the chief actors. To them and to all other
readers we respectfully commend this book as being the best
and most impersonal history of any army ever written.
The Chattanooga Times.
Chattanooga, Tenn., Oct, 1, 1900.
H
in
^
t
*0 THE MEMORY
OF MY DEAD
' COMRADES OF
THE MAURY GRAYS.
AND THE FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT, WHO
DIED IN DEFENSE OF SOUTHERN HOMES AND
LIBERTIES . ALSO TO MY LIVING COMRADES.
NEARLY ALL OF
WHOM SHED THEIR
BLOOD IN DEFENSE
OF THE SAME
CAUSE, THIS BOOK
IS RESPECTFULLY
DEDICATED BY THE
AUTHOR
A TYPICAL CONFEDERATE SOLDI KR.
PREFACE.
"Co. Aytch." — This week's Herald contains the last num-
ber of "Co. Aytch" that will be published in the paper. The
generals, and President, and Vice-President, and other high
officials have published their accounts of the war, but Sam Wat-
kins is the first high private who has written up the common
soldier side of the matter. In big, gilt-edge books, the general,
the President, and the Vice-President, tell about their plans,
their battle, their retreats, their measures, and their ideas, and
not a word about what the poor, sore-footed, hungry, and naked
soldier felt.
In "Co. Aytch" we see the old "webfoot," dressed in a
dirty, greasy, gray suit — or rather non-suit — a cotton blanket
thrown across his shoulder, and fastened under his cartridge-
box belt ; a greasy, dirty haversack hanging down — very thin and
flabby; with shoes of untanned leather. There he goes, foot-
sore, tired, and hungry, but chipper and sassy, and ready for the
battle.
In "Co. Aytch" we see this same "webfoot" in camp, cook-
ing his rations — corn meal bread, corn meal coffee, corn meal
soup, blue beef, with not an eye of grease on it. He lies down
on the cold ground, in an old thin blanket, and shivers through
the night.
In "Co. Aytch" we hear this "webfoot" talking to his com-
rades, cheering their drooping spirits, discussing the situation,
defending the general, hoping for final victory, and a glorious
return home to father, mother, and sweetheart.
In "Co. Aytch" we see this same "webfoot," hungry, raggt d.
dirty, and footsore, "on the battle's perilous edge," the light of
victory in his eye, a gun with a gleaming bayonet in his hands,
springing forward like a deer, a ringing shout upon his lips,
rushing up to the breastworks, behind which belch Napoleon
Vi PREFACE
guns and volleys of musketry ; see -him cross the abattis at a
bound ; see him as he stands upon the enemy's ramparts, shouting
victory !
In "Co. Aytch" we see this same "webfoot" shot down by a
minnie ball, and lying,- cold and stark in death, and thrown into
a common shallow grave, unhonored, unknown, and unsung, far-
away from fond loved ones.
In "Co. Aytch" we see other soldiers, driven by hunger,
stealing hogs, others deserting and going home. All this we see
in "Co. Aytch."
Every old soldier, and every son of an old soldier, should
have a copy of it. — Columbia Herald.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I— Retrospective.
We are one and undivided 9
The bloody chasm 11
Eighteen hundred and sixty-one.... 12
Camp Cheatham 13
On the road 15
Staunton 16
Warm Springs 16
Cheat Mountain 19
Sewell Mountain 21
Romney 22
Standing picket on the Potomac 25
Schwartz and Pflfer 27
The court-martial 27
The death watch 29
Virginia, farewell 30
CHAPTER II— Shiloh.
Shiloh 31
CHAPTER III— Corinth.
Corinth 36
Rowland shot to death 40
Killing a Yankee sharpshooter.. 41
Colonel Field 42
Captain Joe P. Lee 43
Corinth forsaken 43
CHAPTER IV— Tupelo.
Tupelo 44
The court-martial at Tupelo 45
Raiding on roastingears 46
CHAPTER V— Kentucky.
We go into Kentucky 47
The battle of Perryville 49
The retreat out of Kentucky 54
Knoxville 58
Ah, Sneak 59
I jine the cavalry 6C
CHAPTER VI— MURFREESBORO.
Murfreesboro 61
Battle of Murfreesboro 63
Robbing a dead Yankee 66
CHAPTER VII— Shelbyville.
Shelbyville 67
A foot race 67
Eating mussels.. 68
Poor Berry Morgan 69
f£ Wright shot to death with musketry 70
Dave Sublettpromoted 71
Down Duck River in a canoe 74
Shineral Owledowsky 75
CHAPTER VIII— Chattanooga.
Back to Chattanooga 76
Am visited by my father 76
Out a larking 78
Hanging two spies 79
Eating rats 80
Swimming theTenn. with roasting-
ears 81
Am detailed to go foraging 81
Please pass the butter 82
We evacuate Chattanooga 84
The bull of the woods 84
The wing of the "Angel of Death".. 87
CHAPTER IX— CHICKAMAUGA.
Battle of Chickamauga
After the battle
A night among the dead
90
92
93
CHAPTER X— Missionary Ridge.
Missionary Ridge 94
Sergeant Tucker and Gen. Wilder .. 95
Moccasin Point 96
Battle of Missionary Ridge 97
Good-bye, Tom Webb 100
The rear guard 101
Chickamauga Station 102
The battle of Cat Creek 103
Ringgold Gap 104
CHAPTER XI— Dalton.
Gen. Joe Johnston takes command.. 106
Commissaries 110
Dalton „ 110
Shooting a deserter Ill
Ten men killed at mourner's-bench 111
Dr. C. T. Quintard 112
Y's, you got my hog 113
Target shooting.. 116
Uncle Zack and Aunt Daphne 117
Red tape 118
I get a furlough 120
CHAPTER XII— Hundred Days'
Battles.
Rocky Face Ridge 122
Falling back 124
Battle of Resacca 125
Adairsville octagon house 128
Kennesaw line 130
Detailed to go into enemy's lines 130
Death of General Leonidas Polk 133
General Lucius E. Polk wounded.... 133
Dead Angle 135
Battle of New Hope Church 144
Battle of Dallas 145
Battle of Zion Church 146
Kingston 147
Cassville 147
On the banks of the Chattahoochee. 148
Removal of Gen. Joe E. Johnston... 149
Gen. Hood takes command 150
CHAPTER XIII— Atlanta.
Hood strikes 152
Killing a Yankee scout 152
An old citizen 154
My friends 156
An army without cavalry 157
Battle of July 23nd, 1864 158
The attack 158
Am promoted 163
28th of July at Atlanta 164
I visit Montgomery 164
The hospital Kit;
The Capitol 167
Am arrested Iti9
Those girls 170
The talisman 170
The brave Captain.. 171
How I got back to Atlanta 172
The death of Tom Tuck's rooster.... 173
Old Joe Brown's pets 175
Vlll
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XIII— Continued.
We go after Stoneman iti;
Bellum Lethale 178
Death of a Yankee Lieutenant 181
Atlanta forsaken 182
CHAPTER XIV— Jo.nesboro.
Battle of Jonesboro 18-1
Death <>f Lieut. John Whittaker 186
Then comes the farce 189
Palmetto 191
.Jeff Davis makes a speech 193
Armistice only in name 194
A scout 195
What is this Rebel doing here? 196
Look (jut. boys 197
Am captured" 198
CHAPTER XV— advance into
Tennessee.
Gen. Hood makes a flank movement 201
We capture Dalton 202
A man in the well 203
Tuscumbia 203
En route for Columbia 204
CHAPTER XVI— Battles in Tennessee.
Columbia 206
A fiasco 207
Franklin 208
Nashville 212
CRAPTER XVII-The Surrender.
The last act of the drama 219
Adieu 221
COMPANY "AYTCH," FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
CHAPTER I.— RETROSPECTIVE.
"we are one axd undivided."
About twenty years ago, I think it was — I won't be certain,
though — a man whose name, if I remember correctly, was Wm
L. Yancy — I write only from memory, and this was a long time
ago — took a strange and peculiar notion that the sun rose in the
east and set in the west, and that the compass pointed north and
south. jSTow, everybody knew at the time that it was but the
idiosyncrasy of an unbalanced mind, and that the United States
of America had no north, no south, no east, no west. Well, he
began to preach the strange doctrine of there being such a thing.
He began to have followers. As you know, it matters not how
absurd, ridiculous and preposterous doctrines may be preached
there will be some followers. Well, one man by the name of (I
think it was) Rhett, said it out loud. He was told to "s-h-e-e."
Then another fellow by the name (I remember this one because
it sounded like a graveyard) Toombs said so, and he was told to
"sh-sh-ee-ee." Then after a while whole heaps of people began
to say that they thought that there was a north and a south ; and
after a while hundreds and thousands and millions said that
there was a south. But they were the persons who lived in the
direction that the water courses run. Now, the people who lived
where the water courses started from came down to see about it,
and they said, "Gents, you are very much mistaken. We came
over in the Mayflower, and we used to burn witches for saying
that the sun rose in the east and set in the west, because the sun
neither rises nor sets, the earth simply turns on its axis, and we
know, because we are Pure(i)tans." The spokesman of the
party was named (T think I remember his name because it
10 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
always gave me the blues when I heard it) Horrors Greeley ; and
another person by the name of Charles Sumner, said there ain't
any north or south, east or west, and you shan't say so, either.
Xow, the other people who lived in the direction that the water
courses run, just raised their bristles and continued saying that
there is a north and there is a south. When those at the head of
the water courses come out furiously mad, to coerce those in the
direction that water courses run, and to make them take it back.
Well, they went to gouging and biting, to pulling and scratching
at a furious rate. One side elected a captain by the name of
Jeff Davis, and known as one-eyed Jeff, and a first lieutenant by
the name of Aleck Stephens, commonly styled Smart Aleck.
The other side selected as captain a son of Nancy Hanks, of
Bowling Green, and a son of old Bob. Lincoln, the rail-splitter,
and whose name was Abe. Well, after he was elected captain,
they elected as first lieutenant an individual of doubtful blood
by l he name of Hannibal Hamlin, being a descendant of the
generation of Ham, the bad son of old Noah, who meant to curse
him blue, but overdid the thing, and cursed him black.
Well, as I said before, they went to fighting, but old Abe's
side got the best of the argument. But in getting the best of
the argument they called in all the people and wise men of other
nations of the earth, and they, too, said that America had no
cardinal points, and that the sun did not rise in the east and set
in the west, and that the compass did not point either north or
south.
Well, then. Captain Jeff Davis' side gave it up and quit,
and they, too, went to saying that there is no north, no south, no
east, no west. Well, "us boys" all took a small part in the
fracas, and Shep, the prophet, remarked that the day would
come when those who once believed that the American continent
had cardinal points would be ashamed to own it. That day has
arrived. America has no north, no south, no east, no west; the
sun rises over the hills and sets over the mountains, the compass
just points up and down, and we can laugh now at the absurd
notion of there being a north and a south.
\V<-11, reader, let me whisper in your ear. I was in the row,
RETROSPECTIVE. 1 1
and the following pages will tell what part I took in the little
unpleasant misconception of there being such a thing as a north
and south.
THE BLOODY CHASM.
In these memoirs, after the lapse of twenty years, we pro-
pose to fight our "battles o'er again."
To do this is but a pastime and pleasure, as there is nothing
that so much delights the old soldier as to revisit the scenes and
battle-fields with which he was once so familiar, and to recall the
incidents, though trifling they may have been at the time.
The histories of the Lost Cause are all written out by "big
bugs,'' generals and renowned historians, and like the fellow
who called a turtle a "cooter," being told that no such word as
cooter was in Webster's dictionary, remarked that he had as
much right to make a dictionary as Mr. Webster or any other
man ; so have I to write a history.
But in these pages I do not pretend to write the history of
the war. I only give a few sketches and incidents that came
under the observation of a "high private" in the rear ranks of
the rebel army. Of course the histories are all correct. They
tell of great achievements of great men, who wear the laurels of
victory ; have grand presents given them ; high positions in civil
life ; presidents of corporations ; governors of states ; official
positions, etc., and when they die, long obituaries are published,
telling their many virtues, their distinguished victories, etc.,
and when they are buried, the whole country goes in mourning
and is called upon the buy an elegant monument to erect over the
remains of so distinguished and brave a general, etc. But in
the following pages I propose to tell of the fellows who did the
shooting and killing, the fortifying and ditching, the sweeping
of the streets, the drilling, the standing guard, picket and videt,
and who drew (or were to draw) eleven dollars per month and
rations, and also drew the ramrod and tore the cartridge. Par-
don me should I use the personal pronoun "I" too frequently,
as I do not wish to be called egotistical, for I only write of what
I saw as an humble private in the rear rank in an infantry regi-
12 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
ment, commonly called "webfoot." Neither do I propose to
make this a connected journal, for I write entirely from mem-
ory, and you must remember, kind reader, that these things
happened twenty years ago, and twenty years is a long time in
the life of any individual.
I was twenty-one years old then, and at that time I was not
married. Xow I have a house full of young ''rebels," clustering
around my knees and bumping against my elbow, while I write
these reminiscences of the war of secession, rebellion, state
rights, slavery, or our rights in the territories, or by whatever
other name it may be called. These are all with the past now,
and the North and South have long ago "shaken hands across
the bloody chasm." The flag of the Southern cause has been
furled never to be again unfurled ; gone like a dream of yester-
day, and lives only in the memory of those who lived through
those bloody days and times.
EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND SIXTY-ONE.
Reader, mine, did you live in that stormy period ? In the
year of our Lord eighteen hundred and sixty-one, do you remem-
ber those stirring times ? Do you recollect in that year, for the
first time in your life, of hearing Dixie and the Bonnie Blue
Flag ? Fort Sumter was fired upon from Charleston by troops
under General Beauregard, and Major Anderson, of the Federal
army, surrendered. The die was cast; war was declared; Lin-
coln called for troops from Tennessee and all the Southern
states, but Tennessee, loyal to her Southern sister states, passed
the ordinance of secession, and enlisted under the Stars and
Bars. From that day on, every person almost was eager for the
war, and we were all afraid it would be over and we not be in
the fight. ( 'ompanies were made up, regiments organized ; left.
left, left, was heard from morning till night. By the right
flank, file left, march, were familiar sounds. Everywhere could
be seen Southern cockades made by the ladies and our sweet-
hearts. And some who afterwards became Union men made the
most fiery secession speeches. Flags made by the ladies were
presented to companies, and to hear the young orators tell of
RETROSPECTIVE. 13
how they would protect that flag, and that they would come back
with the flag or come not at all, and if they fell they would fall
with their backs to the field and their feet to the foe, would
fairly make our hair stand on end with intense patriotism, and
we wanted to march right off and whip twenty Yankees. But
we soon found out that the glory of war was at home among the
ladies and not upon the field of blood and carnage of death,
where our comrades were mutilated and torn by shot and shell.
And to see the cheek blanch and to hear the fervent prayer, aye,
I might say the agony of mind were very different indeed from
the patriotic times at home.
CAMP CHEATHAM.
After being drilled and disciplined at Camp Cheatham,
under the administrative ability of General R. C. Foster, 3rd,
for two months, we, the First, Third and Eleventh Tennessee
Regiments — Maney, Brown and Rains — learned of the advance
of McClelland' s army into Virginia, toward Harper's Ferry
and Bull Run.
The Federal army was advancing all along the line. They
expected to march right into the heart of the South, set the
negroes free, take our property, and whip the rebels back into
the Union. But they soon found that secession was a bigger
mouthful than they could swallow at one gobble. They found
the people of the South in earnest.
Secession may have been wrong in the abstract, and has been
tried and settled by the arbitrament of the sword and bayonet,
but I am as firm in my convictions to-day of the right of seces-
sion as I was in 1861. The South is our country, the North is
the country of those who live there. We are an agricultural
people; they are a manufacturing people. They are the de-
scendants of the good old Puritan Plymouth Rock stock, and we
of the South from the proud and aristocratic stock of Cavaliers.
We believe in the doctrine of State rights, they in the doctrine
of centralization.
John C. Calhoun, Patrick Henry, and Randolph, of Roan-
oke, saw the venom under their wings, and warned the North of
14 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
the consequences, but they laughed at them. We only fought
for our State rights, they for Union and power. The South fell
battling under the banner of State rights, but yet grand and
glorious even in death. Xow, reader, please pardon the digres-
sion. It is every word that we will say in behalf of the rights
of secession in the following pages. The question has been long
ago settled and is buried forever, never in this age or generation
to be resurrected.
The vote of the regiment was taken, and we all voted to go
to Virginia. The Southern Confederacy had established its
capital at Richmond.
A man by the name of Jackson, who kept a hotel in Mary-
land, had raised the Stars and Bars, and a Federal officer by the
name of Ellsworth tore it down, and Jackson had riddled his
body with buckshot from a double-barreled shot-gun. First
blood for the South.
Everywhere the enemy were advancing; the red clouds of
war were booming up everywhere, but at this particular epoch,
I refer you to the history of that period.
A private soldier is but an automaton, a machine that works
by the command of a good, bad, or indifferent engineer, and is
presumed to know nothing of all these great events. His busi-
ness is to load and shoot, stand picket, videt, etc., while the offi-
cers sleep, or perhaps die on the field of battle and glory, and his
obituary and .epitaph but "one" remembered among the slain,
but to what company, regiment, brigade or corps he belongs,
there is no account ; he is soon forgotten.
A long line of box cars was drawn up at Camp Cheatham
one morning in July, the bugle sounded to strike tents and to
place everything on board the cars. We old comrades have got-
ten together and laughed a hundred times at the plunder and
property that we had accumulated, compared with our subse-
quent scanty wardrobe. Every soldier had enough blankets.
shirts, pants and old boots to last a year, and the empty bottles
and jugs would have set up a first-class drug store. In addition,
every one of us had his gun, cartridge-box, knapsack and three
days' rations, a pistol on each side and a long Bowie knife, that
RETROSPECTIVE. 15
had been presented to us by William Wood, of Columbia, Tenn.
We got in and on top of the box cars, the whistle sounded, and
amid the waving of hats, handkerchiefs and flags, we bid a long
farewell and forever to old Camp Cheatham.
Arriving at Nashville, the citizens turned out en masse to
receive- us, and here again we were reminded of the good old
times and the "gal we left behind us." Ah, it is worth soldier-
ing to receive such welcomes as this.
The Rev. Mr. Elliott invited us to his college grove, where
had been prepared enough of the good things of earth to gratify
the tastes of the most fastidious epicure. And what was most
novel, we were waited on by the most beautiful young ladies
(pupils of his school). It was charming, I tell you. Rev. C.
D. Elliott was our Brigade Chaplain all through the war, and
Dr. C. T. Quintard the Chaplain of the First Tennessee Regi-
ment— two of the best men who ever lived. (Quintard is the
present Bishop of Tennessee).
OX THE ROAD.
Leaving Nashville, we went bowling along twenty or thirty
miles an hour, as fast as steam could carry us. At every town
and station citizens and ladies were waving their handkerchiefs
and hurrahing for Jeff Davis and the Southern Confederacy.
Magnificent banquets were prepared for us all along the entire
route. It was one magnificent festival from one end of the line
to the other. At Chattanooga, Knoxville, Bristol, Farmville,
Lynchburg, everywhere, the same demonstrations of joy and
welcome greeted us. Ah, those were glorious times; and you,
reader, see why the old soldier loves to live over again that happy
period.
But the Yankees are advancing on Manassas. July 21st
finds us a hundred miles from that fierce day's battle. That
night, after the battle is fought and won, our train draws up at
Manassas Junction.
Well, what news ? Every one was wild, nay, frenzied with
the excitement of victory, and we felt very much like the "boy
the calf had run over." We felt that the war was over, and we
would have to return home without even seeing' a Yankee soldier.
16 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
Ah, how we envied those that were wounded. We thought at
that time that we would have given a thousand dollars to have
been in the battle, and to have had our arm shot off, so we could
have returned home with an empty sleeve. But the battle was
over, and we left out.
STAUNTON.
From Manassas our train moved on to Staunton, Virginia
Here we again went into camp, overhauled kettles, pots, buckets,
jugs and tents, and found everything so tangled up and mixed
that we could not tell tuther from which.
We stretched our tents, and the soldiers once again felt that
restraint and discipline which we had almost forgotten en route
t<> this place. But, as the war was over now, our captains,
colonels and generals were not "hard on the boys;" in fact, had
begun to electioneer a little for the Legislature and for Congress.
In fact, some wanted, and were looking forward to the time, to
run for Governor of Tennessee.
Staunton was a big place; whisky was cheap, and good
Virginia tobacco was plentiful, and the currency of the country
was gold and silver.
The State Asylums for the blind and insane were here, and
wo visited all the places of interest.
II ore is where we first saw the game called "chuck-a-luck,1'
afterwards so popular in the army. But, I always noticed that
chuck won, and luck always lost.
Faro and roulette were in full blast ; in fact, the skum had
begun to come to the surface, and shoddy was the gentleman.
By this, I mean that civil law had been suspended; the ermine
of the judges had been overridden by the sword and bayonet.
In other words, the military had absorbed the civil. Hence the
gambler was in his <>k>rv.
WARM SPRINGS, VIRGINIA.
One day" while we were idling around camp, June Tucker
sounded the assembly, and we were ordered aboard the cars. We
pulled out for Millboro; from there we had to foot it to Bath
Alum and Warm Springs. We went over the Allegheny Moun-
tains.
RETROSPECTIVE. 17
I was on every march that was ever made by the First Ten-
nessee Regiment during the whole war, and at this time I cannot
remember of ever experiencing a harder or more fatiguing
march. It seemed that mountain was piled upon mountain.
No sooner would we arrive at a place that seemed to be the top
than another view of a higher, and yet higher mountain would
rise before us. From the foot to the top of the mountain the
soldiers lined the road, broken down and exhausted. First one
blanket was thrown away, and then another ; now and then a
good pair of pants, old boots and -shoes, Sunday hats, pistols and
Bowie knives strewed the road. Old bottles and jugs and vari-
ous and sundry articles were lying pell-mell everywhere. Up
and up, and onward and upward we pulled and toiled, until we
reached the very top, when there burst upon our view one of the
grandest and most beautiful landscapes we ever beheld.
Nestled in the valley right before us is Bath Alum and
Warm Springs. It seemed to me at that time, and since, a
glimpse of a better and brighter world beyond, to the weary
Christian pilgrim who may have been toiling on his journey for
years. A glad shout arose from those who had gained the top,
which cheered and encouraged the others to persevere. At last
we got to Warm Springs. Here they had a nice warm dinner
waiting for us. They had a large bath-house at Warm Springs.
A large pool of water arranged so that a person could go in any
depth he might desire. It was a free thing, and we pitched in.
We had no idea of the enervating effect it would have upon our
physical systems, and as the water was but little past tepid, we
stayed in a good long time. But when we came out we were as
limp as dishrags. About this time the assembly sounded and
we were ordered to march. But we couldn't march worth a
cent. There we had to stay until our systems had had sufficient
recuperation. And we would wonder what all this marching
was for, as the war was over anyhow.
The second day after leaving Warm Springs we came to
Big Springs. It was in the month of August, and the biggesl
white frost fell that I ever saw in winter.
The Yankees were reported to be in close proximity to us,
18 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
and Captain Field with a detail of ten men was sent forward on
the scout. I was on the detail, and when we left camp that
evening, it was dark and dreary and drizzling rain. After a
while the rain began to come down harder and harder, and every
one of us was wet and drenched to the skin — guns, cartridges
and powder. The next morning about daylight, while standing
videt, I saw a body of twenty-five or thirty Yankees approach-
ing, and I raised my gun for the purpose of shooting, and pulled
down, but the cap popped. They discovered me and popped
three or four caps at me ; their powder was wet also. Before I
could get on a fresh cap, Captain Field came running up with
his seven-shooting rifle, and the first fire he killed a Yankee.
They broke and run. Captain Field did all the firing, but every
time he pulled down he brought a Yankee. I have forgotten the
number that he did kill, but if I am not mistaken it was either
twenty or twenty-one, for I remember the incident was in almost
every Southern paper at that time, and the general comments
were that one Southern man was equal to twenty Yankees.
While we were in hot pursuit, one truly brave and magnanimous
Yankee, who had been badly wounded, said, ''Gentlemen, you
have killed me, but not a hundred yards from here is the main
line." We did not go any further, but halted right there, and
after getting all the information that we could out of the
wounded Yankee, we returned to camp.
One evening, General Robert E. Lee came to our camp.
He was a fine-looking gentleman, and wore a moustache. He
was dressed in blue cottonade and looked like some good boy's
grandpa. I felt like going up to him and saying good evening.
Uncle Bob ! I am not certain at this late day that I did not do
so. I remember going up mighty close and sitting there and
listening to his conversation with the officers of our regiment.
He had a calm and collected air about him, his voice was kind
;iiid tender, and his eye was as gentle as a dove's. His whole
make-up of form and person, looks and manner had a kind of
gentle and soothing magnetism about it that drew every one to
liiin and made them love, respect, and honor him. I fell in love
with the old gentleman and felt like going home with him. I
RETROSPECTIVE. 10
know I have never seen a finer looking man, nor one with more
kind and gentle features and manners. His horse was standing
nipping the grass, and when I saw that he was getting ready to
start I ran and caught his horse and led him up to him. He
took the reins of the bridle in his hand and said, 'thank you, my
son," rode off, and my heart went with him. There was none
of his staff with him ; he had on no sword or pistol, or anything
to show his rank. The only thing that I remember he had was
an opera-glass hung over his shoulder by a strap;
Leaving Big Springs, we marched on day by day, across
Greenbrier and Gauley rivers to Huntersville, a little but
sprightly town hid in the very fastnesses of the mountains.
The people live exceedingly well in these mountains. They
had plenty of honey and buckwheat cakes, and they called butter-
milk "sour-milk," and sour-milk weren't fit for pigs; they
couldn't see how folks drank sour-milk. But sour-kraut was
good. Everything seemed to grow in the mountains — potatoes,
Irish and sweet ; onions, snap beans, peas — though the country
was very thinly populated. Deer, bear, and foxes, as well as
wild turkeys, and rabbits and squirrels abounded everywhere.
Apples and peaches were abundant, and everywhere the people
had apple-butter for every meal ; and occasionally we would
come across- a small-sized distillery, which we would at once
start to doing duty. We drank the singlings while they were
hot, but like the old woman who could not eat corn bread until
she heard that they made whisky out of corn, then she could
manage to "worry a little of it down ;" so it was with us and the
singlings.
From this time forward, we were ever on the march —
tramp, tramp, tramp — always on the march. Lee's corps,
Stonewall Jackson's division — I refer you to the histories for
the marches and tramps made by these commanders the first
year of the war. Well, we followed them.
CHEAT MOUNTAIN.
One evening about 4 o'clock, the drummers of the regiment
began to beat their drums as hard as they could stave, and I saw
men running in every direction, and the camp soon became one
20 CO. II., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
scene of hurry and excitement. I asked some one what all this
hnhlmb meant. He looked at me with utter astonishment. I
saw soldiers running' to their tents and grabbing their guns and
cartridge-boxes and hurry out again, the drums still rolling and
rattling. I asked several other fellows what in the dickens did
all this mean? Finally one fellow, who seemed scared almost
out of his wits, answered between a wail and a shriek, "Why,
sir, they are beating the long roll." Says I, "What is the long
roll for?" "The long roll, man, the long roll! Get your gun;
they are beating the long roll!" This was all the information
that I could get. It was the first, last, and only long roll that I
ever heard. But, then everything was new, and Colonel Maney,
ever prompt, ordered the assembly. Without any command or
bugle sound, or anything, every soldier was in his place. Tents,
knapsacks and everything was left indiscriminately.
We were soon on the march, and we marched on and on
and on. About night it began to rain. All our blankets were
back in camp, but we were expected every minute to be ordered
into action. That night we came to Mingo Flats. The rain
still poured. We had no rations to eat and nowhere to sleep.
Some of us got some fence rails and piled them together and
worried through the night as best we could. The next morning
wo were ordered to march again, but we soon began to get hun-
gry, and we had about half halted and about not halted at all.
Some of the boys were picking blackberries. The main body
of the regiment was marching leisurely along the road, when
hang, debang, debang, bang, and a volley of buck and ball came
hurling right through the two advance companies of the regi-
ment— companies H and K. We had marched into a Tanker
ambuscade.
All at once everything was a scene of consternation and
confusion; no one Beemed equal to the emergency. We did not
kimw whether to run or stand, when Captain Field gave the
command to fire and charge the bushes. We charged the
hushes and saw the Yankees running through them, and we
fired «>n them as they retreated. T do not know how many Yan-
kee were killed, if any. Our company (II) had one man
RETROSPECTIVE. 21
killed, Pat Hanley, an Irishman, who had joined our company
at Chattanooga. Hugh Padgett and Dr. Hooper, and perhaps
one or two others, were wounded.
After the fighting was over, where, O where, was all the
fine rigging heretofore on our officers ? They could not be seen.
Corporals, sergeants, lieutenants, captains, all had torn all the
fine lace off their clothing. I noticed that at the time and was
surprised and hurt. I asked several of them why they had torn
off the insignia of their rank, and they always answered,
"Humph, you think that I was going to he a target for the Yan-
kees to shoot at ?" Von see, this was our first battle, and the
officers had not found out that minnie as well as cannon balls
were blind; that they had no eyes and could not see. They
thought that the balls would hunt for them and not hurt the
privates. I always shot at privates. It was they that did the
shooting and killing, and if I could kill or wound a private, why,
my chances were so much the better. I always looked upon
officers as harmless personages. Colonel Field, I suppose, was
about the only Colonel of the war that did as much shooting as
the private soldier. If I shot at an officer, it was at long range,
but when we got down to close quarters I always tried to kill
those that were trying to kill me.
SEWELL MOUNTAIN".
From Cheat Mountain we went by forced marches day and
night, over hill and everlasting mountains, and through lovely
and smiling valleys, sometimes the country rich and productive,
sometimes rough and broken, through towns and villages, the
names of which I have forgotten, crossing streams and rivers,
but continuing our never ceasing, unending march, passing
through the Kanawha Valley and by the salt-works, and nearly
back to the Ohio river, when we at last reached Sewell Moun-
tain. Here we found General John B. Floyd strongly en-
trenched and fortified and facing the advance of the Federal
army. Two days before our arrival he had charged and cap-
tured one line of the enemy's works. I know nothing of the
battle. See the histories for that. I only write from memory,
and that was twenty years ago, but I remember reading in the
22 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
newspapers at that time of some distinguished man, whether he
was captain, colonel or general, I have forgotten, but I know
the papers said "he sought the bauble, reputation, at the cannon's
mouth, and went to glory from the death-bed of fame." I
remember it sounded gloriously in print. Xow, reader, this is
all I know of this grand battle. I only recollect what the news-
papers said about it, and you know that a newspaper always
I'll- the truth. I also know that beef livers sold for one dollar
apiece in gold ; and here is where we were first paid off in Con-
federate money. Remaining here a few days, we commenced
<>ur march again.
Sewell Mountain, Harrisonburg, Lewisburg, Kanawha
Suit -works, first four, forward and back, seemed to be the pro-
gramme of that day. Rosecrans, that wiley old fox, kept Lee
and Jackson both busy trying to catch him, but Rosey would not
be caught. March, march, march ; tramp, tramp, tramp, back
through the valley to Huntersville and Warm Springs, and up
through the most beautiful valley — the Shenandoah — in the
world, passing towns and elegant farms and beautiful residences,
rich pastures and abundant harvests, which a Federal General
(Fighting Joe Hooker), later in the war, ordered to be so sacked
and destroyed that a "crow passing over this valley would have
to carry his rations." Passing on, Ave arrived at Winchester.
The first night we arrived at this place, the wTind blew a perfect
hurricane, and every tent and marquee in Lee's and Jackson's
army was blown down. This is the first sight we had of Stone-
wall Jackson, riding upon his old sorrel horse, his feet drawn up
as if his stirrups were much too short for him, and his old dingy
military cap hanging well forward over his head, and his nose
erected in the air, his old rusty sabre rattling by his side. This
is the way the grand old hero of a hundred battles looked. His
spirit is yonder with the blessed ones that have gone before, but
ln's history is one that the country will ever be proud of, and his
memory will be cherished and loved by the old soldiers who fol-
lowed him through the war.
ROMNEY.
Our march to and from Romnev was in midwinter, in the
RETROSPECTIVE. 23
month of January, 1862. It Avas the coldest winter known to
the oldest inhabitant of these regions. Situated in the most
mountainous country in Virginia, and away up near the Mary-
land and Pennsylvania line, the storm king seemed to rule in all
of his majesty and power. Snow and rain and sleet and tempest
seemed to ride and laugh and shriek and howl and moan and
groan in all their fury and wrath. The soldiers on this march
got very much discouraged and disheartened. As they inarched
along icicles hung from their clothing, guns, and knapsacks ;
many were badly frost bitten, and I heard of many freezing to
death along the road side. My feet peeled off like a peeled
onion on that march, and I have not recovered from its effects to
this day. The snow and ice on the ground being packed by the
soldiers tramping, the horses hitched to the artillery wagons
were continually slipping and sliding and falling and wounding
themselves and sometimes killing their riders. The wind
whistling with a keen and piercing shriek, seemed as if they
would freeze the marrow in our bones. The soldiers in the
whole army got rebellious — almost mutinous— and would curse
and abuse Stonewall Jackson ; in fact, they called him ''Fool
Tom Jackson." They blamed him for the cold weather; they
blamed him for everything, and when he would ride by a regi-
ment they would take occasion, sotto voce, to abuse him, and call
him "Fool Tom Jackson," and loud enough for him to hear.
Soldiers from all commands would fall out of ranks and stop by
the road side and swear that they would not follow such a leader
any longer.
When Jackson got to Romney, and was ready to strike
Banks and Meade in a vital point, and which would have
changed, perhaps, the destiny of the war and the South, his
troops refused to march any further, and he turned, marched
back to Winchester and tendered his resignation to the authori-
ties at Richmond. But the great leader's resignation was not
accepted. It was in store for him to do some of the hardest
fighting and greatest generalship that was done during the war.
One night at this place (Romney), I was sent forward with
two other soldiers across the wire bridge as picket. One of
*24 CO. H.j, FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
them was named Schwartz and the other Pfifer — he called it
Fifer, but spelled it with a P — both full-blooded Dutchmen, and
belonging to Company E, or the German Yagers, Captain Harsh,
or, as he was more generally called, "God-for-dam."
When we had crossed the bridge and taken our station for
the night, I saw another snow storm was coming. The zig-zag
Lightnings began to flare and flash, and sheet after sheet of wild
flames seemed to burst right over our heads and were hissing
around us. The very elements seemed to be one aurora borealis
with continued lightning. Streak after streak of lightning
seemed to be piercing each the other, the one from the north and
the other from the south. The white clouds would roll up,
looking like huge snow balls, encircled with living fires. The
earth and hills and trees were covered with snow, and the light-
nings seemed to be playing "King, King Cameo" along its crust-
ed surface. If it thundered at all, it seemed to be between a
groaning and a rumbling sound. The trees and hills seemed
white with livid fire. I can remember that storm now as the
grandest picture that has ever made any impression on my
memory. As soon as it quit lightning, the most blinding snow
storm fell that L ever saw. It fell so thick and fast that I got
hot I felt like pulling off my coat. I was freezing. The
winds sounded like sweet music. I felt grand, glorious, pecul-
iar; beautiful things began to play and dance around my head.
and I supposed I must have dropped to sleep or something, when
I fell Schwartz grab me, and give me a shake, and at the same
time raised his gun and fired, and yelled out at the top of his
voice. •'Here is your mule." The next instant a volley of min-
nie balls was scattering the snow all around us. I tried to walk,
but my pants and boots were stiff and frozen, and the blood had
ceased to circulate in my lower limbs. But Schwartz kept on
tiring, and at every fire he would yell out, "Yer is yer mool!"
I 'titer could not speak English, and I reckon he said "Here is
your mule" in Dutch. About the same time we were hailed
from three Confederate officers, at full gallop right toward us,
not to shoot. And as they galloped up to us and thundered right
across the bridge, we discovered it was Stonewall Jackson and
RETROSPECTIVE. 25
two of his staff. At the same time the Yankee cavalry charged
us, and we, too, ran back across the bridge.
STANDING PICKET ON THE POTOMAC.
Leaving Winchester, we continued up the valley.
The night before the attack on Bath or Berkly Springs,
there fell the largest snow I ever saw.
Stonewall Jackson had seventeen thousand soldiers at his
command. The Yankees were fortified at Bath. An attack
was ordered, our regiment marched upon top of a mountain
overlooking the movements of both armies in the valley below.
About 4 o'clock one grand charge and rush was made, and the
Yankees were routed and skedaddled.
By some circumstance or other, Lieutenant J. Lee Bullock
came in command of the First Tennessee Regiment. But Lee
was not a graduate of West Point, you see.
The Federals had left some spiked batteries on the hill side,
as we were informed by an old citizen, and Lee, anxious to cap-
ture a battery, gave the new and peculiar command of, "Soldiers,
you are ordered to go forward and capture a battery ; just piroute
up that hill; piroute, march. Forward, men; piroute care-
fully. " The boys "pirouted" as best they could. It may have
been a new command, and not laid down in Hardee's or Scott's
tactics ; but Lee was speaking plain English, and we understood
his meaning perfectly, and even at this late day I have no doubt
that every soldier who heard the command thought it a legal and
technical term used by military graduates to go forward and
capture a battery.
At this place (Bath), a beautiful young lady ran across the
street. I have seen many beautiful and pretty women in my
life, but she was the prettiest one I ever saw. Were you to ask
any member of the First Tennessee Regiment who was the pret-
tiest woman he ever saw, he would unhesitatingly answer that
be saw her at Berkly Springs during the war, and he would
continue the tale, and tell you of Lee Bullock's piroute and
Stonewall Jackson's charge.
We rushed down to the big spring .bursting out of the moun-
tain side, and it was hot enough to cook an egg. Never did I
20 CO. II., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
see soldiers more surprised. The water was so hot we could not
drink it.
The snow covered the ground and was still falling.
That night I stood picket on the Potomac with a detail of
the Third Arkansas Regiment. I remember how sorry I felt
f'< a the poor fellows, because they had enlisted for the war, and
we for only twelve months. Before nightfall I took in every
object and commenced my weary vigils. I had to stand all
night. I could hear the rumblings of the Federal artillery and
wagons, and hear the low shuffling sound made by troops on the
march. The snow came pelting down as large as goose eggs.
About midnight the snow ceased to fall, and became quiet. Now
and then the snow would fall off the bushes and make a terrible
noise. While I was peering through the darkness, my eyes
suddenly fell upon the outlines of a man. The more I looked
the more I was convinced that it was a Yankee picket. I could
see his hat and coat — yes, see his gun. I was sure that it was a
Yankee picket. What was I to do? The relief was several
hundred yards in the rear. The more I looked the more sure I
was. At last a cold sweat broke out all over my body. Turkey
bumps rose. I summoned all the nerves and bravery that I
could command, and said : "Halt ! who goes there ?" There
being no response, I became resolute. I did not wish to fire and
arouse the camp, but I marched right up to it and stuck my
bayonet through and through it. It was a stump. I tell the
above, because it illustrates a part of many a private's recollec-
tions of flic war; in fact, a part of the hardships and suffering
that they go through.
One secret, of Stonewall Jackson's success was that he was
such a strict, disciplinarian. He did his duty himself and was
ever at his post, and he expected and demanded of everybody to
do the same thing. lie would have a man shot at the drop of a
hat, and drop it himself. The first army order that was ever
read to us after being attached to his corps, was the shooting to
death by musketry of two men who had stopped on the battlefield
to carry off a wounded comrade. It was read to us in line of
liattle at Winchester.
RETROSPECTIVE. 27
SCHWARTZ AND PFIFER.
At Valley Mountain the finest and fattest beef I ever saw was
issued to the soldiers, and it was the custom to use tallow for
lard. Tallow made good shortening if the biscuits were eaten
hot, but if allowed to get cold they had a strong taste of tallow
in their flavor that did not taste like the flavor of vanilla or
lemon in ice cream and strawberries ; and biscuits fried in tal-
low were something upon the principle of 'possum and sweet
potatoes. Well, Pfifer had got the fat from the kidneys of two
hind-quarters and made a cake of tallow weighing about twenty-
five pounds. He wrapped it up and put it carefully away in
his knapsack. When the assembly sounded for the march,
Pfifer strapped on his knapsack. It was pretty heavy, but
Pfifer was "well heeled." He knew the good frying he would
get out of that twenty-five pounds of nice fat tallow, and he was
willing to tug and toil all day over a muddy and sloppy road for
his anticipated hot tallow gravy for supper. We made a long
and hard march that day, and about dark went into camp.
Fires were made up and water brought, and the soldiers began
to get supper. Pfifer was in a good humor. He went to get
that twenty-five pounds of good, nice, fat tallow out of his knap-
sack, and on opening it, lo and behold ! it was a rock that
weighed about thirty pounds. Pfifer was struck dumb with
amazement. He looked bewildered, yea, even silly. I do not
think he cursed, because he could not do the subject justice. He
looked at that rock with the death stare of a doomed man. But
he suspected Schwartz. He went to Schwartz's knapsack, and
there he found his cake of tallow. He went to Schwartz and
would have killed him had not soldiers interfered and pulled
him off by main force. His eyes blazed and looked like those
of a tiger when he has just torn his victim limb from limb. I
would not have been in Schwartz's shoes for all the tallow in
every beef in Virginia. Captain Harsh made Schwartz carry
thai rock for two days to pacify Pfifer.
THE COURT-MARTIAL.
One incident came under my observation while in Virginia
28 CO. 11., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
that made a deep impression on my mind. One morning, about
daybreak, the new guard was relieving the old guard. It was a
bitter cold morning, and on coming to our extreme outpost, I saw
a soldier — he was but a mere boy — either dead or asleep at his
post. The sergeant commanding the relief went up to him and
shoot him. He immediately woke up and seemed very much
frightened. He was fast asleep at his post. The sergeant had
him arrested and carried to the guard-house.
Two davs afterwards I received notice to appear before a
court-martial at nine. I was summoned to appear as a witness
against him for being asleep at his post in the enemy's country.
An example had to be made of some one. He had to be tried for
his life. The court-martial was made up of seven or eight offi-
cers of a different regiment. The witnesses all testified against
him. charges and specifications were read, and by the rules of
war he had to be shot to death by musketry. The Advocate-
Genera] for the prosecution made the opening speech. He read
the law in a plain, straightforward manner, and said that for a
soldier to go to sleep at his post of duty, while so much depended
upoD him, was the most culpable of all crimes, and the most
inexcusable. 1 trembled in my boots, for on several occasions
I knew I had taken a short nap, even on the very outpost. The
Advocate-General went on further to say, that the picket was the
sentinel that held the lives of his countrymen and the liberty of
his country in his hands, and it mattered not what may have
been his record in the past. At one moment he had forfeited
his life to his country. For discipline's sake, if for nothing
else, you gentlemen that make up this court-martial find the
prisoner guilty. It is necessary for you to be firm, gentlemen,
for upon your decision depends the safety of our country. When
In' had finished, thinks I to myself, "Gone up the spout, sure;
we will have a first-class funeral here before night."
Well, as to the lawyer who defended him, I cannot now ,
remember his speeches; but he represented a fair-haired boy
leaving his home and family, telling his father and aged mother
and darling little sister farewell, and spoke of his proud step,
though a mere boy, going to defend his country and his loved
RETROSPECTIVE. 2£
ones ; but at one weak moment, when nature, tasked and taxed
beyond the bounds of human endurance, could stand no longer,
and upon the still and silent picket post, when the whole army
was hushed in slumber, what wonder is it that he, too, may have-
fallen asleep while at his post of duty.
Some of you gentlemen of this court-martial may have sons,
may have brothers ; yes, even fathers, in the army. Where are
they to-night? You love your children, or your brother or
father. This mere youth has a father and mother and sister
away back in Tennessee. They are willing to give him to his
country. But oh ! gentlemen, let the word go back to Tennessee
that he died upon the battlefield, and not by the hands of his own
comrades for being asleep at his post of duty. I cannot now
remember the speeches, but one thing I do know, that he was.
acquitted, and I was glad of it.
"the death watch/''
One more scene I can remember. Kind friends — you that
know nothing of a soldier's life — I ask you in all candor not to
doubt the following lines in this sketch. You have no doubt
read of the old Roman soldier found amid the ruins of Pompeii,
who had stood there for sixteen hundred years, and when he was
excavated was found at his post with his gun clasped in his skele-
ton hands. You believe this because it is written in history. I
have heard politicians tell it. I have heard it told from the
sacred desk. It is true ; no one doubts it.
Now, were I to tell something that happened in this nine-
teenth century exactly similar, you would hardly believe it.
But whether you believe it or not, it is for you to say. At a little
village called Hampshire Crossing, our regiment was ordered to
go to a little stream called St. John's Run, to relieve the 14th
Georgia Regiment and the 3rd Arkansas. I cannot tell the
facts as I desire to. In fact, my hand trembles so, and my feel-
ings are so overcome, that it is hard for me to write at all. But
Ave went to the place that we were ordered to go to, and when we
arrived there we found the guard sure enough. If I remember
correctly, there were just eleven of them. Some were sitting
down and some were lving down ; but each and every one was as
30 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
cold and as hard frozen as the icicles that hung from their hands
and faces and clothing — dead! They had died at their post of
duty. Two of them, a little in advance of the others, were
standing with their guns in their hands, as cold and as hard
frozen as a monument of marble — standing sentinel with loaded
guns in their frozen hands ! The tale is told. Were they true
men ? Does He who noteth the sparrow's fall, and numbers the
hairs of our heads, have any interest in one like ourselves ?
Yes; He doeth all things well. !Not a sparrow falls to the
ground without His consent.
VIRGINIA, FAREWELL.
After having served through all the valley campaign, and
marched through all the wonders of Northwest Virginia, and
being associated with the army of Virginia, it was with sorrow
and regret that we bade farewell to "Old Virginia's shore," to
go to other fields of blood and carnage and death. We had
learned to love Virginia; we love her now. The people were
kind and good to us. They divided their last crust of bread and
rasher of bacon with us. We loved Lee, we loved Jackson ; we
loved the name, association and people of Virginia. Hatton,
Forbes, Anderson, Gilliam, Govan, Loring, Ashby and Schu-
i nakcr were names with which we had been long associated. We
hated to leave all our old comrades behind us. We felt that we
were proving recreant to the instincts of our own manhood, and
that we were leaving those who had stood by us on the march
and battlefield when they most needed our help. We knew the
7th and 14th Tennessee regiments; we knew the 3rd Arkansas,
the 14th Georgia, and 42nd Virginia regiments. Their names
were as familiar as household words. We were about to leave
the bones of Joe Bynum and Gus Allen and Patrick Hanly.
We were about to bid farewell to every tender association that
we had formed with the good people of Virginia, and to our old
associates among the soldiers of the Grand Army of Virginia.
I irginia, farewell! Away back yonder, in good old Tennessee,
our homes and loved ones are being robbed and insulted, our
fields Laid waste, our cities sacked, and our people slain. Duty
as well as patriotism calls us back to our native home, to try and
SHILOH. &1
defend it, as best we can, against an invading army of our then
enemies ; and, Virginia, once more we bid you a long farewell !
CHAPTER II.— SHILOH.
SHILOH.
This was the first big battle in which our regiment had ever
been engaged. I do not pretend to tell of what command dis-
tinguished itself; of heroes; of blood and wounds; of shrieks
and groans; of brilliant charges; of cannon captured, etc. I
was but a private soldier, and if I happened to look to see if I
could find out anything, "Eyes right, guide center," was the
order. "Close up, guide right, halt, forward, right oblique, left
oblique, halt, forward, guide center, eyes right, dress up prompt-
ly in the rear, steady, double quick, charge bayonets, fire at
will," is about all that a private soldier ever knows of a battle.
He can see the smoke rise and the flash of the enemy's guns, and
he can hear the whistle of the minnie and cannon balls, but he
has got to load and shoot as hard as he can tear and ram car-
tridge, or he will soon find out, like the Irishman who had been
shooting blank cartridges, when a ball happened to strike him,
and he halloed out, "Faith, Pat, and be jabbers, them fellows are
shooting bullets." But I nevertheless remember many things
that came under my observation in this battle. I remember a
man by the name of Smith stepping deliberately out of the
ranks and shooting his finger off to keep out of the fight; of
another poor fellow who was accidentally shot and killed by the
discharge of another person's gun, and of others suddenly taken
sick with colic. Our regiment was the advance guard on Sat-
32 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
urday evening, and did a little skirmishing; but General Glad-
den's brigade passed us and assumed a position in our immediate
front. About daylight on Sunday morning, Chalmers' brigade
relieved Gladden's. As Gladden rode by us, a courier rode up
and told him something. I do not know what it was, but I
heard Gladden say, "Tell General Bragg that I have as keen a
scent for^ Yankees as General Chalmers has."
On Sunday morning, a clear, beautiful, and still day. the
order was given for the whole army to advance, and to attack
immediately. We were supporting an Alabama brigade. The
fire opened — bang, bang, bang, a rattle de bang, bang, bang, a
boom, de bang, bang, bang, boom, bang, boom, bang, boom, bang,
boom, bang, boom, whirr-siz-siz-siz — a ripping, roaring boom,
bans! The air was full of balls and deadly missiles. The
litter corps was carrying off the dying and wounded. We could
hear the shout of the charge and the incessant roar of the guns,
the rattle of the musketry, and knew that the contending forces
were engaged in a breast to breast struggle. But cheering news
continued to come back. Every one who passed would be
hailed with, "Well, what news from the front?" "Well, boys.
we are driving 'em. We have captured all their encampments,
everything that they had, and all their provisions and army
stores, and everything."
As we were advancing to the attack and to support the
Alabama brigade in our front, and which had given way and
were stricken with fear, some of the boys of our regiment would
laugh at thorn, and ask what they were running for, and would
commence to say "Flicker! flicker! flicker!" like the bird called
the yellowhammer, "Flicker! flicker! flicker!" As we advanced,
on the edge of the battlefield, we saw a big fat colonel of the
23rd Tennessee regimenl badly wounded, whose name, if 1 re-
member correctly, was Matt. Martin. He said to us, "(live 'em
. boys. That's right, my brave First Tennessee. Give 'em
Hail Columbia!" We halted but a moment, and said I,
"Colonel, where are you wounded?" He answered in a dec])
base voire, "My son, I am wounded in the arm, in the leg, in the
head, in the body, and in another place which I have a delicacy
SHILOH. 33
in mentioning." That is what the gallant old Colonel said.
Advancing a little further on, we saw General Albert Sidney
Johnson surrounded by his staff and Governor Harris, of Ten-
nessee. We saw some little commotion among those who sur-
rounded him, but we did not know at the time that he was
dead. The fact was kept from the troops.
About noon a courier dashed up and ordered us to go for-
ward and support General Bragg's center. "We had to pass over
the ground where troops had been fighting all day.
I had heard and read of battlefields, seen pictures of battle-
fields, of horses and men, of cannon and wagons, all jumbled
together, while the ground was strewn with dead and dying and
wounded, but I must confess that I never realized the "pomp and
circumstance" of the thing called glorious war until I saw this
Men were lying in every conceivable position; the dead lying
with their eyes wide open, the wounded begging piteously for
help, and some waving their hats and shouting to us to go for-
ward. It all seemed to me a dream ; I seemed to be in a sort of
haze, when siz, siz, siz, the minnie balls from the Yankee line
began to whistle around our ears, and I thought of the Irishman
when he said, "Sure enough, those fellows are shooting bullets !"
Down would drop first one fellow and then another, either
killed or wounded, when we were ordered to charge bayonets.
I had been feeling mean all the morning as if I had stolen a
sheep, but when the order to charge was given, I got happy. I
felt happier than a fellow does when he professes religion at a
big Methodist camp-meeting. I shouted. It was fun then.
Everybody looked happy. We were crowding them. One more
charge, then their lines waver and break. They retreat in wild
confusion. We were jubilant; we were triumphant. Officers
could not curb the men to keep in line. Discharge after dis-
charge was poured into the retreating line. The Federal dead
and wounded covered the ground.
When in the very midst of our victory, here comes an order
to halt. What ! halt after to-day's victory ? Sidney Johnson
killed, General Gladden killed, and a host of generals and other
brave men killed, and the whole Yankee army in full retreat.
34 CO. II... FIRST TENNESSEE KEGIMENT.
These four letters, h-a-l-t, O, how harsh they did break upon
our ears. The victory was complete, but the word "halt" turned
victory into defeat.
The soldiers had passed through the Yankee camps and
saw all the good things that they had to eat in their sutlers'
stores and officers' marquees, and it was but a short time before
even' soldier was rummaging to see what he could find.
The harvest was great and the laborers were not few.
The negro boys, who were with their young masters as
servants, got rich. Greenbacks were plentiful, good clothes
were plentiful, rations were not in demand. The boys were in
clover.
This was Sunday.
On Monday the tide was reversed.
Now, those Yankees were whipped, fairly whipped, and
according to all the rules of war they ought to have retreated.
But they didn't. Flushed with their victories at Fort Henry
and Fort Donelson and the capture of Nashville, and the whole
State of Tennessee having fallen into their hands, victory was
again to perch upon their banners, for Buell's army, by forced
marches, had come to Grant's assistance at the eleventh hour.
Gunboats and transports were busily crossing Buell's army
all of Sunday night. We could hear their boats ringing their
bells, and hear the puff of smoke and steam from their boilers.
Our regiment was the advance outpost, and we saw the skirmish
line of the Federals advancing and then their main line and
then their artillery. We made a good fight on Monday morning.
and I was taken by surprise when the order came for us to
retreat instead of advance. But as I said before, reader, a
private soldier is but an automaton, and knows nothing of what
is going on among the generals, and I am only giving the chron-
icles of little things and events that came under my own observa-
tion as I saw them then and remember them now. Should you
desire to find out more about the battle, I refer you to history.
One incident I recollect very well. A Yankee colonel,
riding a fine gray mare, was sitting on his horse looking at our
advance as if we were on review. W. IT. rushed forward and
SHILOH. 35
grabbed his horse by the bridle, telling him at the same time to
surrender. The Yankee seized the reins, set himself back in
the saddle, put the muzzle of his pistol in W. H.'s face and fired.
About the time he pulled trigger, a stray ball from some direc-
tion struck him in the side and he fell off dead, and his horse
becoming frightened, galloped off, dragging him through the
Confederate lines. His pistol had missed its aim.
I have heard hundreds of old soldiers tell of the amount of
greenback money they saw and picked up on the battlefield of
Shiloh, but they thought it valueless and did not trouble them-
selves with bringing it off with them.
One fellow, a courier, who had had his horse killed, got on
a mule he had captured, and in the last charge, before the final
and fatal halt was made, just charged right ahead by his lone
self, and the soldiers said, "Just look at that brave man, charg-
ing right in the jaws of death." He began to seesaw the mule
and grit his teeth, and finally yelled out, "It arn't me, boys, it's
this blarsted old mule. Whoa ! Whoa !"
On Monday morning I too captured me a mule. He was
not a fast mule, and I soon found out that he thought he knew
as much as I did. He was wise in his own conceit. He had a
propensity to take every hog path he came to. All the bom-
basting that I could give him would not make him accelerate his
speed. If blood makes speed, I do not suppose he had a drop of
any kind in him. If I wanted him to go on one side of the road
he was sure to be possessed of an equal desire to go on the other
side/ Finally I and my mule fell out. I got a big hickory
and would frail him over the head, and he would only shake his
head and flop his ears, and seem to say, "Well, now, you think
you are smart, don't you ?" He was a resolute mule, slow to
anger, and would have made an excellent merchant to refuse bad
pay, or I will pay your credit, for his whole composition seemed
to be made up the one word — no. I frequently thought it would
be pleasant to split the difference with that mule, and I would
gladly have done so if I could have gotten one-half of his no.
Me and mule worried along until we came to a creek. Mule
did not desire to cross, while I was trying to persuade him with
36 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
a big stick, a rock in his ear, and a twister on his nose. The
caisson of a battery was about to cross. The driver said, "I'll
take your mule over for you." So he got a large two-inch rope
tied one end around the mule's neck and the other to the caisson,
and ordered the driver to whip up. The mule was loth to take to
the water. He was no Baptist, and did not believe in immer-
sion, and had his views about crossing streams, but the rope
began to tighten, the mule to squeal out his protestations against
such villainous proceedings. The rope, however, was stronger
than the mule's "no," and he was finally prevailed upon by the
strength of the rope to cross the creek. On my taking the rope
off he shook himself and seemed to say, "You think that you are
mighty smart folks, but you are a leetle too smart." I gave it
up that that mule's "no" was a little stronger than my deter-
mination. He seemed to be in deep meditation. I got on him
again, when all of a sudden he lifted his head, pricked up his
ears, began to champ his bit, gave a little squeal, got a little
faster, and finally into a gallop and then a run. He seemed all
at once to have remembered or to have forgotten something, and
was now making up for lost time. With all my pulling and see-
sawing and strength I could not stop him until he brought up
with me at Corinth, Mississippi.
CHAPTER III.— CORINTH.
CORINTH.
Well, here we were, again "reorganizing," and after our lax
discipline on the road to and from Virginia, and after a big bat-
tle, which always disorganizes an army, what wonder is it that
some men had to be shot, merely for discipline's sake? And
CORINTH.
37
what wonder that General Bragg's name became a terror to de-
serters and evil doers ? Men were shot by scores, and no wonder
the army had to be reorganized. Soldiers had enlisted for
twelve months only, and had faithfully complied with their vol-
unteer obligations ; the terms for which they had enlisted had
expired, and they naturally looked upon it that they had a right
to go home. They had done their duty faithfully and well.
They wanted to see their families ; in fact, wanted to go home
anyhow. War had become a reality ; they were tired of it. A
law had been passed by the Confederate States Congress called
the conscript act. A soldier had no right to volunteer and to
choose the branch of service he preferred. He was conscripted.
From this tini3 on till the end of the war, a soldier was
simply a machine, a conscript. It was mighty rough on rebels.
We cursed the war, we cursed Bragg, we cursed the Southern
Confederacy. All our pride and valor had gone, and we were
sick of war and the Southern Confederacy.
A law was made by the Confederate States Congress about
this time allowing every person who owned twenty negroes to
go home. It gave us the blues ; we wanted twenty negroes.
ISTegro property suddenly became very valuable, and there was
raised the howl of "rich man's war, poor man's fight." The
glory of the war, the glory of the South, the glory and the pride
of our volunteers had no charms for the conscript.
We were directed to re-elect our officers, and the country was
surprised to see the sample of a conscript's choice. The conscript
had no choice. He was callous, and indifferent whether he had
a captain or not. Those who were at first officers had resigned
and gone home, because they were officers. The poor private,
a contemptible conscript, was left to howl and gnash his teeth.
The war might as well have ended then and there. The boys
were "hacked," nay, whipped. They were shorn of the locks of
their glory. They had but one ambition now, and that was to
get out of the army in some way or other. They wanted to join
the cavalry or artillery or home guards or pioneer corps or to be
"yaller dogs," or anything.
[The average staff officer and courier were always called
;J8 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
"yjiller dogs," and were regarded as non-combatants and a nui-
sance, and the average private never let one pass without whist-
ling and calling dogs. In fact, the general had to issue an army
order threatening punishment for the ridicule hurled at staff
officers and couriers. They were looked upon as simply '•hang-
ers on," or in other words, as yellow sheep-killing dogs, that if
you would say "booh" at, would yelp and get under their master's
heels. Mike Snyder was General George M aney's "yaller dog,"
and I believe here is where Joe Jefferson, in Rip Van Winkle,
got the name of Rip's dog Snyder. At all times of day or night
you could hear, "Wheer, hyat, hyat, haer, haer, hugh, Snyder,
whoopee, hyat, whoopee, Snyder, here, here," when a staff officer
or courier happened to pass. The reason of this was that the
private knew and felt that there was just that much more load-
ing, shooting and fighting for him ; and there are the fewest num-
ber of instances on record where a staff officer or courier ever
fired a gun in their country's cause; and even at this late day,
when I hear an old soldier telling of being on some general's
staff, I always think of the letter "E." In fact, later in the
war I was detailed as special courier and staff officer for General
Hood, which office I held three days. But while I held the office,
in passing a guard I always told them I was on Hood's staff, and
ever afterwards I made those three days' staff business last me
the balance of the war. I could pass any guard in the army by
using the magic words, "staff officer." It beat all the counter-
signs ever invented. It was the "open sesame" of war and
discipline.]
Their last hope had set. They hated war. To their minds
the South was a great tyrant, and the Confederacy a fraud.
They were deserting by thousands. They had no love or respect
for General Bragg. When men were to be shot or whipped, the
whole army was marched to the horrid scene to see a poor trem-
bling wretch tied to a post and a platoon of twelve men drawn
up in line to put him to death, and the hushed command of
"Ready, aim, fire!" would make the soldier, or conscript, I
should say, loathe the very name of Southern Confederacy.
And when some miserable wretch was to be whipped and branded
CORINTH. 39
for being absent ten days without leave, we had to see him kneel
down and have his head shaved smooth and slick as a peeled
onion, and then stripped to the naked skin. Then a strapping-
fellow with a big rawhide would make the blood flow and spurt
at every lick, the wretch begging and howling like a hound, and
then he was branded with a red hot iron with the letter D on
both hips, when he was marched through the army to the music
of the "Kogue's March." It was enough. None of General
Bragg's soldiers ever loved him. They had no faith in his
ability as a general. He was looked upon as a merciless tyrant.
The soldiers were very scantily fed. Bragg never was a good
feeder or commissary-general. Rations with us were always
scarce. No extra rations were ever allowed to the negroes who
were with us as servants. No coffee or whisky or tobacco were
ever allowed to be issued to the troops. If they obtained these
luxuries, they were not from the government. These luxuries
were withheld in order to crush the very heart and spirit of his
troops. We were crushed. Bragg was the great autocrat. In
the mind of the soldier, his word was law. He loved to crush the
spirit of his men. The more of a hang-dog look they had about
them the better was General Bragg pleased. Not a single soldier
in the whole army ever loved or respected him. But he is dead
now.
Peace to his ashes !
We became starved skeletons; naked and ragged rebels.
The chronic diarrhoea became the scourge of the army. Corinth
became one vast hospital. Almost the whole army attended the
sick call every morning. All the water courses went dry, and
we used water out of filthy pools.
Halleck was advancing ; we had to fortify Corinth. A vast
army, Grant, Buell, Halleck, Sherman, all were advancing on
Corinth. Our troops were in no condition to fight. In fact,
they had seen enough of this miserable yet tragic farce. They
were ready to ring down the curtain, put out the footlights and
go home. They loved the Union anyhow, and were always op-
posed to this war. But breathe softly the name of Bragg. It
had more terror than the advancing hosts of Halleck's army.
-Id CO. II.. FIEST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
The shot and shell would come tearing through our ranks.
Every now and then a soldier was killed or wounded, and we
thought what "magnificent" folly. Death was welcome. Hal-
leck's whole army of blue coats had no terror now. When we
wer< • drawn up in line of battle, a detail of one-tenth of the army
was placed in our rear to shoot us down if we ran. No pack of
hounds under the master's lash, or body of penitentiary convicts
were ever under greater surveillance. We were tenfold worse
than slaves ; our morale was a thing of the past ; the glory of war
and the pride of manhood had been sacrificed upon Bragg's
tyrannical holocaust. But enough of this.
ROWLAND SHOT TO DEATH.
One morning I went over to the 23rd Tennessee Regiment
on a visit to Captain Gray Armstrong and Colonel Jim Niel,
both of whom were glad to see me, as we were old ante-bellum
friends. While at Colonel Niel's marquee I saw a detail of
soldiers bring out a man by the name of Rowland, whom they
were going to shoot to death with musketry, by order of a court-
martial, for desertion. I learned that he had served out the term
for which he had originally volunteered, had quit our army and
joined that of the Yankees, and was captured with Prentiss'
Yankee brigade at Shiloh. He was being hauled to the place of
execution in a wagon, sitting on an old gun box, which was to be
his coffin. When they got to the grave, which had been dug the
day before, the water had risen in it, and a soldier was baling it
out. Rowland spoke up and said, "Please hand me a drink of
that water, as I want to drink out of my own grave so the boys
will talk about it when I am dead, and remember Rowland."
They handed him the water and he drank all there was in the
bucket, and handing it back asked them to please hand him a
little more, as he had heard that water was very scarce in hell,
and it would be the last he would ever drink. He was then
carried to the death post, and there he began to cut up jack gen-
erally. He began to curse Bragg, Jeff. Davis, and the Southern
Confederacy, and all the rebels at a terrible rate. He was sim-
ply arrogant and very insulting. I felt that he deserved to die.
CORINTH. 41
He said lie would show the rebels how a Union man could die.
I do not know what all he did say. When the shooting detail
came up, he went of his own accord and knelt down at the post.
The Captain commanding the squad gave the command, "Ready,
aim, fire !" and Rowland tumbled over on his side. It was the
last of Rowland.
KILLING A YANKEE SHARPSHOOTER.
In our immediate front, at Corinth, Mississippi, our men
were being picked off by sharpshooters, and a great many were
killed, but no one could tell where the shots came from. At one
particular post it was sure death. Every detail that had been
sent to this post for a week had been killed. In distributing the
detail this post fell to Tom Webb and myself. They were bring-
ing off a dead boy just as we went on duty. Colonel George C.
Porter, of the 6th Tennessee, warned us to keep a good lookout.
We took our stands. A minnie ball whistled right by my head.
I don't think it missed me an eighth of an inch. Tom had sat
down on an old chunk of wood, and just as he took his seat, zip !
a ball took the chunk of wood. Tom picked it up and began
laughing at our tight place. Happening to glance up towards
the tree tops, I saw a smoke rising above a tree, and about the
same time I saw a Yankee peep from behind the tree, up among
the bushes. I quickly called Tom's attention to it, and pointed
out the place. We could see his ramrod as he handled it while
loading his gun ; saw him raise his gun, as we thought, to put a
cap on it. Tom in the meantime had lain flat on his belly and
placed his gun across the chunk he had been sitting on. I had
taken a rest for my gun by the side of a sapling, and both of us
had dead aim at the place where the Yankee was. Finally we
saw him sort o' peep round the tree, and we moved about a little
so that he might see us, and as we did so, the Yankee stepped out
in full view, and bang, bang ! Tom and I had both shot. We
saw that Yankee tumble out like a squirrel. It sounded like
distant thunder when that Yankee struck the ground. We
heard the Yankees carry him off. One thing I am certain of,
and that is, not another Y'ankee went up that tree that day, and
Colonel George C. Porter complimented Tom and I very highly
42 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
on our success. This is where I first saw a jack o* lantern
(ignis fatui). That night, while Tom and I were on our posts,
we saw a number of very dim lights, which seemed to he in
motion. At first we took them to be Yankees moving about with
lights. Whenever we could get a shot we would blaze away.
At last one got up very close, and passed right between Tom and
I. I don't think I was ever more scared in my life. My hair
stood on end like the quills of the fretful porcupine ; I could not
imagine what on earth it was. I took it to be some hellish
machination of a Yankee trick. I did not know whether to run
or stand, until I heard Tom laugh and say, "Well, well, that's a
jack o' lantern."
COLONEL FIELD.
Before proceeding further with these memoirs, I desire to
give short sketches of two personages with whom we were identi-
fied and closely associated until the winding up of the ball.
The first is Colonel Hume R. Field. Colonel Field was born a
soldier. I have read many descriptions of Stonewall Jackson.
Colonel Field was his exact counterpart. They looked some-
what alike, spoke alike, and alike were trained military soldiers.
The War Department at Richmond made a grand mistake in not
making him a "commander of armies." He was not a brilliant
man ; could not talk at all. He was a soldier. His conversation
was yea and nay. But when you could get "yes, sir," and "no,
sir," out of him his voice was as soft and gentle as a maid's when
she says "yes" to her lover. Fancy, if you please, a man about
thirty years old, a dark skin, made swarthy by exposure to sun
and rain, very black eyes that seemed to blaze with a gentle lus-
ter. I never saw him the least excited in my life. His face
was a face of bronze. His form was somewhat slender, but
when you looked at him you saw at the first glance that this
would be a dangerous man in a ground skuffle, a foot race, or a
fight. There was nothing repulsive or forbidding or even dom-
ineering in his looks. A child or a dog would make up with him
on first sight. He knew not what fear was, or the meaning of
the word fear, lie had no nerves, or rather, has a rock or Tree
/
CORINTH. 43
any nerves ? You might as well try to shake the nerves of a
rock or tree as those of Colonel Field. He was the bravest man,
I think, I ever knew. Later in the war he was known by every
soldier in the army ; and the First Tennessee Regiment, by his
manipulations, became the regiment to occupy "tight places."
He knew his men. When he struck the Yankee line they felt
the blow. He had, himself, set the example, and so trained his
regiment that all the armies in the world could not whip it.
They might kill every man in it, is true, but they would die game
to the last man. His men all loved him. He was no disciplina-
rian, but made his regiment what it was by his own example.
And every day on the march you would see some poor old ragged
rebel riding his fine gray mare, and he was walking.
CAPTAIN JOE P. LEE.
The other person I wish to speak of is Captain Joe P. Lee.
Captain Henry J. Webster was our regular captain, but was
captured while on furlough, sent to a northern prison and died
there, and Joe went up by promotion. He was quite a young
man, about twenty-one years old, but as brave as any old Roman
soldier that ever lived. Joe's face was ever wreathed in smiles,
and from the beginning to the end he was ever at the head of
his company. I do not think that any member of the company
ever did call him by his title. He was called simply "Joe Lee,"
or more frequently "Black Perch." While on duty he was
strict and firm, but off duty he was "one of us boys." We all
loved and respected him, but everybody knows Joe, and further
comment is unnecessary.
I merely mention these two persons because in this rapid
sketch I may have cause occasionally to mention them, and only
wish to introduce them to the reader, so he may understand more
fully my ideas. But, reader, please remember that I am not
writing a history at all, and do not propose in these memoirs to
be anybody's biographer. I am only giving my own impres-
sions. If other persons think differently from me it is all right,
and I forgive them. • .
CORINTH FORSAKEN.
One morning a detail was sent to burn up and destroy all
tl CO. H.j FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
the provisions and army stores, and to blow np the arsenal. The
town was in a blaze of fire and the arsenal was roaring and pop-
ping and bellowing like pandemonium turned loose as we
marched through Corinth on the morning of the evacuation.
We bade farewell to Corinth. Its history was black and dark
and damning. Xo little speck of green oasis ever enlivened the
dark recesses of our memory while at this place. It's a desert
that lives only in bitter memories. It was but one vast grave-
yard that entombed the life and spirit of once brave and chival-
rous men. We left it to the tender mercies of the Yankees
without one tear of sorrow or regret, and bade it farewell
forever.
CHAPTER IV.— TUPELO.
TUPELO.
VYV went into summer quarters at Tupelo. Our principal
occupation at this place was playing poker, chuck-a-luck and
cracking graybacks (lice). Every soldier had a brigade of lice
<>n him, and I have seen fellows so busily engaged in cracking
them that it reminded me of an old woman knitting. At first
the boys would go off in the woods and hide to louse themselves,
but that was unnecessary, the ground fairly crawled with lice.
Pharaoh's people, when they were resisting old Moses, never
enjoyed the curse of lice more than we did. The boys would
frequently have a louse race. There was one fellow who was
winning all the money; his lice would run quicker and crawl
faster than anybody's lice. We could not understand it. If
some fellow happened to catch a fierce-looking louse, he would
call on Domin for a race. Dornin would come and always win
TUPELO. 45
the stake. The lice were placed in plates — this was the race
course — and the first that crawled off was the winner. At last
we found out D.'s trick ; he always heated his plate.
Billy P. said he had no lice on him.
"Did you ever look ?"
"No."
"How do you know then ?"
"If ignorance is bliss 'tis folly to be wise," said Billy.
"Why, there is one crawling on your bosom now."
Billy took him and put him back in his bosom and said to
the louse, "You stay there now; this makes the fourth time I
have put you back, and if I catch you out again to-day I'll martyr
you."
Billy was philosophic — the death of one louse did not stop
the breed.
THE COUKT-MARTIAL AT TUPELO.
At this place was held the grand court-martial. Almost
every day we would hear a discharge of musketry, and knew that
some poor, trembling wretch had bid farewell to mortal things
here below. It seemed to be but a question of time with all of
us as to when we too would be shot. We were afraid to chirp.
So far now as patriotism was concerned, we had forgotten all
about that, and did not now so much love our country as we
feared Bragg. Men were being led to the death stake every day.
I heard of many being shot, but did not see but two men shot
myself. I do not know to what regiment they belonged, but I
remember that they were mere beardless boys. I did not learn
for what crime or the magnitude of their offenses. They might
have deserved death for all I know.
I saw an old man, about sixty years old, whose name was
Dave Brewer, and another man, about forty-five, by the name
of Rube Franklin, whipped. There was many a man whipped
and branded that I never saw or heard tell of. But the reason I
remembered these two was that they belonged to Company A of
the 23rd Tennessee Regiment, and I knew many men in the
regiment.
These two men were hung up by the hands, after having
46 CO. II., FIEST TEBTCSTESSEE EEGIMENT.
their beads shaved, to a tree, put there for the purpose, with the
prongs left on them, and one hand was stretched toward one
prong and the other hand to another prong, their feet, perhaps,
just touching the ground. The man who did the whipping had
a thick piece of sole-leather, the end of which was cut in three
strips, and this tacked on to the end of a paddle. After the
charges and specifications had been read (both men being stark
naked), the whipper "lit in" on Rube, who was the youngest.
I do not think he intended to hit as hard as he did, but, being
excited himself, he blistered Rube from head to foot. Thirty-
nine lashes was always the number. Now, three times thirty-
nine makes one hundred and seventeen. When he struck at all,
one lick would make three whelps. When he had finished Rube,
the Captain commanding the whipping squad told him to lay it
on old man Brewer as light as the law would allow, that old man
Brewer was so old that he would die — that he could not stand it.
He struck old man Dave Brewer thirty-nine lashes, but they
were laid on light. Old Dave didn't beg and squall like Rube
did. He j-e-s-t did whip old man Dave. Like the old preacher
who caught the bear on Sunday. They had him up before the
church, agreed to let him off if he did not again set his trap.
"Well," he said, "brethren, I j-e-s-t did set it."
EAIDING ON" EOASTINGEAES.
At this place General Bragg issued an order authorizing
citizens to defend themselves against the depredations of sol-
diers— to shoot them down if caught depredating.
Well, one day Byron Richardson and myself made a raid
on an old citizen's roastingear patch. We had pulled about all
the corn that we could carry. I had my arms full and was
about starting for camp, when an old citizen raised up and said,
"Stop there! drop that corn." He had a double-barreled shot-
gun cocked and leveled at my breast.
"Come and go with me to General Bragg's headquarters.
I intend to take you there, by the living God !"
I was in for it. Directed to go in front, I was being
marched to Bragg's headquarters. I could see the devil in the
KENTUCKY. 47
old fellow's eye. I tried to beg off with good promises, but the
old fellow was deaf to all entreaty. I represented to him all of
our hardships and suffering. But the old fellow was inexorable.
I was being steadily carried toward Bragg's headquarters. I
was determined not to see General Bragg, even if the old citizen
shot me in the back. When all at once a happy thought struck
me. Says I, "Mister, Byron Richardson is in your field, and if
you will go back we can catch him and you can take both of us
to General Bragg." The old fellow's spunk was up. He had
captured me so easy, he no doubt thought he could whip a dozen.
We went back a short distance, and there was Byron, who had
just climbed over the fence and had his arms full, when the old
citizen, diverted from me, leveled his double-barrel at Byron,
when I made a grab for his gun, which was accidentally dis-
charged in the air, and with the assistance of Byron, we had the
old fellow and his gun both. The table was turned. We made
the old fellow gather as much as he could carry, and made him
carry it nearly to camp, when we dismissed him, a wiser if not
a better and richer man. We took his gun and bent it around a
black jack tree. He was at the soldiers' mercy.
CHAPTER V.— KENTUCKY.
WE GO INTO KENTUCKY.
After being thoroughly reorganized at Tupelo, and the
troops had recovered their health and spirits, we made an ad-
vance into Kentucky. We took the cars at Tupelo and went to
Mobile, from thence across Mobile Bay to Montgomery, Ala-
bama, then to Atlanta, from there to Chattanooga, and then over
the mountains afoot to the blue-grass regions of Kentucky — the
48 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
dark and bloody ground. Please remember, patient reader, that
J write entirely from memory. I have no data or diary or any-
thing to go by, and memory is a peculiar faculty. I find that I
cannot remember towns and battles, and remember only the little
things. I remember how gladly the citizens of Kentucky re-
ceived us. I thought they had the prettiest girls that God ever
made. They could not do too much for us. They had heaps
and stacks of cooked rations along our route, with wine and cider
everywhere, and the glad shouts of "Hurrah for our Southern
boys !" greeted and welcomed us at every house. Ah, the boys
felt like soldiers again. The bands played merrier and livelier
tunes. It was the patient convalescing ; the fever had left him.
he was getting fat and strong ; the old fire was seen to illuminate
his eyes ; his step was buoyant and proud ; he felt ashamed that
he had ever been "hacked ;" he could fight now. It was the same
old proud soldier of yore. The bands played "Dixie" and the
"Bonnie Blue Flag,'' the citizens cheered, and the ladies waved
their handkerchiefs and threw us bouquets. Ah, those were
halcyon days, and your old soldier, kind reader, loves to recall
that happy period. Mumfordsville had been captured with five
thousand prisoners. New recruits were continually joining our
ranks.
Camp Dick Robinson, that immense pile of army stores, had
fallen into our hands. We rode upon the summit of the wave
of success. The boys had got clean clothes, and had their faces
washed. I saw then what I had long since forgotten — a "cock-
ade." The Kentucky girls made cockades for us, and almost
every soldier had one pinned on his hat. But stirring events
were hastening on, the black cloud of battle and war had begun
then to appear much larger than a man's hand, in fact we could
see the lightning flash and hear the thunder roar.
We were at Harrodsburg ; the Yankees were approaching
Perryville under General Buell. The Yankees had been dog-
ging our rear, picking up our stragglers and capturing some of
our wagon trains.
'I'll is good time that we were having was too good to last
We were in an ecstasy akin to heaven. We were happy; the
KENTUCKY. 49
troops were jubilant ; our manhood blood pulsated more warmly ;
our patriotism was awakened ; our pride was renewed and stood
ready for any emergency ; we felt that one Southern man could
whip twenty Yankees. All was lovely and the goose hung high.
We went to dances and parties every night.
When General Chalmers marched to Perry ville, in flanking
and surrounding Mumfordsville, we marched the whole night
long. We, the private soldiers, did not know what was going on
among the generals. All that we had to do was march, march,
march. It mattered not how tired, hungry, or thirsty we were.
All that we had to do was to march that whole night long, and
every staff officer who would pass, some fellow would say, "Hey.
mister, how far is it to Mumfordsville?" He would answer,
"five miles." It seemed to me we traveled a hundred miles
and were always within five miles of Mumfordsville. That
night we heard a volley of musketry in our immediate front, and
did not know what it meant, but soon we came to where a few
soldiers had lighted some candles and were holding them over
the body of a dead soldier. It was Captain Allison, if I remem-
ber rightly, of General Cheatham's staff. He was very bloody.
and had his clothes riddled with balls. I heard that he rode on
in front of the advance guard of our army, and had no doubt
discovered the Yankee picket, and came galloping back at full
speed in the dark, when our advance guard fired on and killed
him.
We laid down in a graveyard that night and slept, and when
we awoke the sun was high in the heavens, shining in our faces.
Mumfordsville had surrendered. The next day Dr. C. T. Quin-
tard let me ride his horse nearly all day, while he walked with
the webfeet.
THE BATTLE OF PEREYVILLE.
In giving a description of this most memorable battle, I do
not pretend to give you figures, and describe how this general
looked and how that one spoke, and the other one charged with
drawn sabre, etc. I know nothing of these things — see the his-
tory for that. I was simply a soldier of the line, and I only
Avrite of the things I saw. I was in every battle, skirmish and
50 CO. H., FIKST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
march that was made by the First Tennessee Regiment during
the Avar, and I do not remember of a harder contest and more
evenly fought battle than that of Perryville. If it had been two
men wrestling, it would have been called a "dog fall." Both
sides claim the victory — both whipped.
I stood picket in Perryville the night before the battle — a
Yankee on one side of the street, and I on the other. We got
very friendly during the night, and made a raid upon a citizen's
pantry, where we captured a bucket of honey, a pitcher of sweet
milk, and three or four biscuit. The old citizen was not at home
— he and his whole household had gone visiting, I believe. In
fact, I think all of the citizens of Perryville were taken with a
sudden notion of promiscuous visiting about this time ; at least
they were not at home to all callers.
At length the morning dawned. Our line was drawn up
on one side of Perryville, the Yankee army on the other. The
two enemies that were soon to meet in deadly embrace seemed
to be eyeing each other. The blue coats lined the hillside in
plain view. You could count the number of their regiments by
the number of their flags. We could see the huge war dogs
frowning at us, ready at any moment to belch forth their fire
and smoke, and hurl their thunderbolts of iron and death in our
very midst.
I wondered why the fighting did not begin. Never on
earth were our troops more eager for the engagement to open.
The Yankees commenced to march toward their left, and we
marched almost parallel to our right — both sides watching each
other's maneuvers and movements. It was but the lull that
precedes the storm. Colonel. Field was commanding our bri-
gade, and Lieutenant-Colonel Patterson our regiment. About
12 o'clock, while we were marching through a corn field, in
which the corn had been shocked, they opened their war dogs
upon us. The beginning of the end had come. Here is where
Captain John F. Wheless was wounded, and three.others, whose
names I have forgotten. The battle now opened in earnest, and
from one end of the line to the other seemed to be a solid sheet
of blazing smoke and fire. Our regiment crossed a stream, be-
KENTUCKY. 51
ing preceded by Wharton's Texas Rangers, and we were ordered
to attack at Once with vigor. Here General Maney's horse was
shot. From this moment the battle was a mortal struggle. Two
lines of battle confronted us. We killed almost every one in the
first line, and were soon charging over the second, when right
in our immediate front was their third and main line of battle
from which four Napoleon guns poured their deadly fire.
We did not recoil, but our line was fairly hurled back by
the leaden hail that was poured into our very faces. Eight
color-bearers were killed at one discharge of their cannon. We
were right up among the very wheels of their Napoleon guns.
It was death to retreat now to either side. Our Lieutenant-
Colonel, Patterson, halloed to charge and take their guns, and
we were soon in a hand-to-hand fight — every man for himself —
using the butts of our guns and bayonets. One side would
waver and fall back a few yards, and would rally, when the other
side would fall back, leaving the four Napoleon guns ; and yet
the battle raged. Such obstinate fighting I never had seen be-
fore or since. The guns were discharged so rapidly that it
seemed the earth itself was in a volcanic uproar. The iron
storm passed through our ranks, mangling and tearing men to
pieces. The very air seemed full of stifling smoke and fire,
which seemed the very pit of hell, peopled by contending de-
mons.
Our men were dead and dying right in the very midst of
this grand havoc of battle. It was a life to life and death to
death grapple. The sun was poised above us, a great red ball,
sinking slowly in the west, yet the scene of battle and carnage
continued. I cannot describe it. The mantle of night fell
upon the scene. I do not know which side whipped, but I know
that I helped bring off those four Napoleon guns that night,
though we were mighty easy about it.
They were given to Turner's Battery of our brigade, and
had the name of our Lieutenant-Colonel, Patterson, and our
color-bearer, -Mitchell, both of whom were killed, inscribed on
two of the pieces. I have forgotten the names inscribed on the
other two pieces. I saw these very four guns surrendered at
Missionary Ridge. But of this another time.
52 CO. II., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
The battle of Perryville presented a strange scene. The
dead, dying, and wounded of both armies, Confederate and Fed-
eral, were blended in inextricable confusion. Now and then a
cluster of dead Yankees and close by a cluster of dead Rebels.
It was like the Englishman's grog — 'alf and 'alf. Now, if you
wish, kind reader, to find out how many were killed and wound-
ed, I refer you to the histories.
I remember one little incident that I laughed at while in
the very midst of battle. We were charging through an old
citizen's yard, when a big yellow cur dog ran out and commenced
snapping at the soldiers' legs — they kicking at him to keep him
off. The next morning he was lying near the same place, but
he was a dead dog.
I helped bring off our wounded that night. We worked
the whole night. The next morning about daylight a wounded
comrade, Sam Campbell, complained of being cold, and asked
me to lie down beside him. I did so, and was soon asleep ;
when I awoke the poor fellow was stiff and cold in death. His
spirit had flown to its home beyond the skies.
After the battle was over, John T. Tucker, Scott Stephens,
A. S. Horsley and I were detailed to bring off our wounded that
night, and we helped to bring off many a poor dying comrade — -
Joe Thompson, Billy Bond, Byron Richardson, the two Allen
boys — brothers, killed side by side — and Colonel Patterson, who
was killed standing right by my side. He was first shot through
the hand, and was wrapping his handkerchief around it, when
another ball struck and killed him. I saw W. J. Whittorne
then a strippling boy of fifteen years of age, fall, shot through
the neck and collar-bone. He fell apparently dead, when I saw
him all at once jump up, grab his gun and commence loading
and firing, and I heard him say, "D — n 'em, I'll fight 'em as
long as I live." Whit thought he was killed, but he is living yet.
We helped bring off a man by the name of Hodge, with his under
jaw shot off, and his tongue lolling out. We brought off Cap-
tain Lute B. Irvine. Lute was shot through the lungs and was
\ ••uniting blood all the while, and begging us to lay him down
and let him die. But Lute is living yet. Also, Lieutenant
KENTUCKY. 53
Woklridge, with both eyes shot out. I found him rambling in
a briar-patch. About fifty members of the Rock City Guards
were killed and nearly one hundred wounded. They were led
by Captains W. D. Kelley, Wheless, and Steele. Lieutenant
Thomas H. Maney was badly wounded. I saw dead on the bat-
tlefield a Federal General by the name of Jackson. It was his
brigade that fought us so obstinately at this place, and I did hear
that they were made up in Kentucky. Colonel Field, then com-
manding our brigade, and on his fine gray mare, rode up almost
face to face with General Jackson, before he was killed, and
Colonel Field was shooting all the time with his seven-shooting
rifle. I cannot tell the one-half, or even remember at this late
date, the scenes of blood and suffering that I witnessed on the
battlefield of Perryville. But its history, like all the balance,
has gone into the history of the war, and it has been twenty
years ago, and I write entirely from memory. I remember
Lieutenant Joe P. Lee and Captain W. C. Flournoy standing
right at the muzzle of the Napoleon guns, and the next moment
seemed to be enveloped in smoke and fire from the discharge of
the cannon. When the regiment recoiled under the heavy firing
and at the first charge, Billy Webster and I stopped behind a
large oak tree and continued to fire at the Yankees until the regi-
ment was again charging upon the four Napoleon guns, heavily
supported by infantry. We were not more than twenty paces
from them ; and here I was shot through the hat and cartridge-
box. I remember this, because at that time Billy and I
were in advance of our line, and whenever we saw a Yankee rise
to shoot, Ave shot him ; and I desire to mention here that a braver
or more noble boy was never created on earth than was Billy
Webster. Everybody liked him. He was the flower and chiv-
alry of our regiment. His record as a brave and noble boy will
ever live in the hearts of his old comrades that served with him
in Company H. He is up yonder now, and we shall meet again.
In these memoirs I only tell what I saw myself, and in this way
the world will know the truth. Now, citizen, let me tell you
what you never heard before, and this is this — there were many
men with the rank and pay of general, who were not generals ;
54 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE EEGIMENT.
there were many men with the rank and pay of privates who
would have honored and adorned the name of general. Now, I
will state further that a private soldier was a private.
It mattered not how ignorant a corporal might be, he was
always right ; it mattered not how intelligent the private might
be (and so on up) ; the sergeant was right over the corporal,
the sergeant-major over the sergeant, the lieutenant over him,
and the captain over him, and the major over him, and the
colonel over him, and the general over him, and so on up to
Jeff Davis. You see, a private had no right to know anything;
and that is why generals did all the fighting, and that is to-day
why generals and colonels and captains are great men. They
fought the battles of our country. The privates did not. The
generals risked their reputation, the private soldier his life.
No one ever saw a private in battle. His history would never
be written. It was the generals that everybody gaw charge
such and such, with drawn sabre, his eyes flashing fire, his nos-
trils dilated, and his clarion voice ringing above the din of
battle — "in a horn," over the left.
Bill Johns and Marsh Pinkard would have made Generals
that would have distinguished themselves and been an honor to
the country.
I know to-day many a private who would have made a good
General. I know of many a General who was better fitted to be
excused from detail and fights, to hang around a camp and draw
rations for the company. A private had no way to distinguish
himself. He had to keep in ranks, either in a charge or a re-
treal. But now, as the Generals and Colonels fill all the posi-
tions of honor and emoluments, the least I say, the better.
THE RETREAT OUT OF KENTUCKY.
From Perryville we went to Camp Dick Robinson and drew
three days' rations, and then set fire to and destroyed all those
great deposits of army stores which would have supplied the
South for a year. We ate those rations and commenced our re-
treat out of Kentucky with empty haversacks and still emptier
stomachs.
We supposed our general and commissaries knew what
KENTUCKY. 55
they were doing, and at night Ave would again draw rations, but
we didn't.
The Yankee cavalry are worrying our rear guards. There
is danger of an attack at any moment. No soldier is allowed
to break ranks.
We thought, well surely we will draw rations to-night.
But we didn't. We are marching for Cumberland Gap; the
country has long ago been made desolate by the alternate occu-
pation of both armies. There are no provisions in the country.
It has long since been laid waste. We wanted rations, but we
did not get them.
Fourth day out — Cumberland Gap in the distance — a great
indenture in the ranges of Cumberland mountains. The scene
was grand. But grand scenery had but little attraction for a
hungry soldier. Surely we will get rations at Cumberland Gap.
Toil on up the hill, and when half way up the hill, "Halt !" —
march back down to the foot of the hill to defend the cavalry.
I was hungry. A cavalryman was passing our regiment with
a pile of scorched dough on the pummel of his saddle. Says I,
"Halt ! I am going to have a pattock of that bread." "Don't
give it to him ! don't give it to him !" was yelled out from all
sides. I cocked my gun and was about to raise it to my shoul-
der, when he handed me over a pattock of scorched dough, and
every fellow in Company H made a grab for it, and I only got
about two or three moUthfuls. About dark a wild heifer ran
by our regiment, and I pulled down on her. We killed and
skinned her, and I cut off about five pounds of hindquarter. In
three minutes there was no sign of that beef left to tell the tale.
We ate that beef raw and without salt.
Only eight miles now to Cumberland Gap, and we will get
rations now. But we didn't. We descended the mountain on
the southern side. No rations yet.
Well, says I, this won't do me. I am going to hunt some-
thing to eat, Bragg or no Bragg. I turned off the road and
struck out through the country, but had gone but a short distance
before I came across a group of soldiers clambering over some-
thing. It was Tom Tuck with a barrel of sorghum that he had
50 CO. H.j FIRST TENNESSEE KEGIMENT.
captured from a good Union man. He was selling it out at five
dollars a quart, I paid my five dollars, and by pushing and
Bcrouging I finally got my quart. I sat down and drank it; it
was bully; it was not so good; it was not worth a cent; I was
sick, and have never loved sorghum since.
Along the route it was nothing but tramp, tramp, tramp,
and no sound or noise but the same inevitable, monotonous
tramp, tramp, tramp, up hill and down hill, through long and
< lusty lanes, weary, wornout and hungry. No cheerful warble
of a merry songster would ever greet our ears. It was always
tramp, tramp, .tramp. You might, every now and then, hear
the occasional words, "close up ;" but outside of that, it was but
the same tramp, tramp, tramp. I have seen soldiers fast asleep,
and no doubt dreaming of home and loved ones there, as they
s!ai:irered along in their places in the ranks. I know that on
many a weary night's march I have slept, and slept soundly,
while marching along in my proper place in the ranks. of the
company, stepping to the same step as the soldier in front of me
did. Sometimes, when weary., broken down and worn out, some
member of the regiment would start a tune, and every man would
join in. John Branch was usually the leader of the choir. He
would commence a beautiful tune. The words, as I remember
them now, were, "Dear Paul, Just Twenty Years Ago." After
singing this piece he would commence on a lively, spirit-stirring
air to the tune of "Old Uncle Ned." Now, reader, it has been
twenty years ago since I heard it, but I can remember a part of
it now. Here it is :
"There was an ancient individual whose cognomen was Uncle Edward.
He departed this life long since, long since.
He had no capillary substance on the top of his cranium,
The place where the capillary substance ought to vegetate.
His digits were as long as the bamboo piscatorial implement of the Southern
Mississippi.
He had no oculars to observe the beauties of nature.
Hi' had no ossified formation to masticate his daily rations,
So he had to let his dally rations pass by with impunity."
Walker Coleman raises the tune of "I'se a gwine to jine the
rebel band, a fightin' for my home."
Now, reader, the above is all I can now remember of that
very beautiful and soul-stirring air. But the boys would wake
KENTUCKY. 57
up and step quicker and livelier for some time, and Arthur Ful-
glium would holloa cut, "All right ; go ahead !" and then would
toot ! toot ! as if the cars were starting — puff ! puff ! puff ! and
then he would say, "Tickets, gentlemen; tickets, gentlemen."
like he was conductor on a train of cars. This little episode
would be over, and then would commence the same tramp, tramp,
tramp, all night long. Step by step, step by step, we continued
to plod and nod and stagger and march, tramp, tramp, tramp.
After a while we would see the morning star rise in the east, and
then after a while the dim gray twilight, and finally we could
discover the outlines of our file leader, and after a while could
make out the outlines of trees and other objects. And as it
would get lighter and lighter, and day would be about to break,
cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, would come from Tom Tuck's rooster.
[Tom carried a game rooster, that he called "Fed" for Confed-
eracy, all through the war in a haversack.] And then the sun
would begin to shoot his slender rays athwart the eastern sky,
and the boys would wake up and begin laughing and talking as
if they had just risen from a good feather bed, and were per-
fectly refreshed and happy. We would usually stop at some
branch or other about breakfast time, and all wash our hands
and faces and eat breakfast, if we had any, and then commence
our weary march again. If we were halted for one minute,
every soldier would drop down, and resting on his knapsack,
would go to sleep. Sometimes the sleeping soldiers were made
to get up to let some general and his staff pass by. But when-
ever that was the case, the general always got a worse cursing
than when ]^oah cursed his son Ham black and blue. I heard
Jesse Ely do this once.
We march on. The scene of a few days ago comes unbidden
to my mind. Tramp, tramp, tramp, the soldiers are marching.
Where are many of my old friends and comrades, whose names
were so familiar at every roll call, and whose familiar "Here" is
no more ? They lie yonder at Perryville, unburied, on the field
of battle. They lie where they fell. More than three hundred
and fifty members of my regiment, the First Tennessee, num-
bered among the killed and wounded — one hundred and eighty-
58 CO. H., FIBST TENNESSEE EEGIMENT.
five slain 011 the field of battle. Who are they % Even then I
had to try to think np the names of all the slain of Company H
alone. Their spirits seemed to be with us on the march, but we
know that their souls axe with their God. Their bones, to-day.
no doubt, bleach upon the battlefield. They left their homes,
families, and loved ones a little more than one short twelve
months ago, dressed in their gray uniforms, amid the applause
and cheering farewells of those same friends. They lie yonder ;
no friendly hands ever closed their eyes in death ; no kind, gen-
tle, and loving mother was there to shed a tear over and say
farewell to her darling boy ; no sister's gentle touch ever wiped
the death damp from off their dying brows. Noble boys ; brave
boys ! They willingly gave their lives to their country's cause.
Their bodies and bones are mangled and torn by the rude mis-
siles of war. They sleep the sleep of the brave. They have
given their all to their country. We miss them from our ranks.
There are no more hard marches and scant rations for them.
They have accomplished all that could be required of them.
They are no more; their names are soon forgotten. They are
put down in the roll-book as killed. They are forgotten. We
will see them no more until the last reveille on the last morning
of the final resurrection. Soldiers, comrades, friends, noble
boys, farewell! we will meet no more on earth, but up yonder
some day we will have a grand reunion.
KNOXVILLE.
The first night after crossing Cumberland Gap — I have for-
gotten the date, but I know it was very early in the fall of the
year ; we had had no frost or cold weather, and our marches all
through Kentucky had been characterized by very dry weather,
it not having rained a drop on us during the whole time — about
four o'clock in the morning it began to snow, and the next morn-
ing the ground was covered with a deep snow; the trees and
grass and everything of the vegetable kingdom still green.
When we got back to Knoxville we were the lousiest, dirti-
est, raggedest looking Rebels you ever saw. I had been shot
through the hat and cartridge-box at Perryville, and had both
on, and the clothing I then had on was all that I had in the
KENTUCKY. 59
world. William A. Hughes and I were walking up the street
looking at the stores, etc., when we met two of the prettiest girls
I ever saw. They ran forward with smiling faces, and seemed
very glad to see us. I thought they were old acquaintances of
Hughes, and Hughes thought they were old acquaintances of
mine. We were soon laughing and talking as if we had been
old friends, when one of the young ladies spoke up and said.
"Gentlemen, there is a supper for the soldiers at the Ladies'
Association rooms, and we are sent out to bring in all the soldiers
we can find." We spoke up quickly and said, "Thank you,
thank you, young ladies," and I picked out the prettiest one and
said, "Please take my arm," which she did, and Hughes did the
same with the other one, and we went in that style down the
street. I imagine we were a funny looking sight. I know one
thing, I felt good all over, and as proud as a boy with his first
pants, and when we got to that supper room those young ladies
waited on us, and we felt as grand as kings. To you, ladies, I
say, God bless you!
AH, "SNEAK."
Almost every soldier in the army — generals, colonels, cap-
tains, as well as privates — had a nick-name ; and I almost believe
that had the war continued ten years, we would have forgotten
our proper names. John T. Tucker was called "Sneak," A. S.
Horsley was called "Don Von One Horsley," W. A. Hughes was
called "Apple Jack," Green Rieves was called "Devil Horse."
the surgeon of our regiment was called "Old Snake," Bob Brank
was called "Count," the colonel of the Fourth was called "Guide
Post," E. L. Lansdown was called "Left Tenant," some were
called, by the name of "Greasy," some "Buzzard," others "Hog,"
and "Brutus," and "Cassius," and "Caesar," "Left Center," and
"Bolderdust," and "Old Hannah ;" in fact, the nick-names were
singular and peculiar, and when a man got a nick-name it stuck
to him like the Old Man of the Sea did to the shoulders of Sin-
bad, the sailor.
On our retreat the soldiers got very thirsty for tobacco
(they always used the word thirsty), and they would sometimes
come across an old field off which the tobacco had been cut and
60 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
the suckers had re-sprouted from the old stalk, and would cut off
these suckers and dry them by the fire and chew them. "Sneak"
had some how or other got hold of a plug or two, and knowing
that he would be begged for a chew, had cut it up in little bits of
pieces about one-fourth of a chew. Some fellow would say,
"Sneak, please give me a chew of tobacco." Sneak would say,
"I don't believe I have a piece left," and then he would begin to
feel in his pockets. He would pull that hand out and feel in
another pocket, and then in his coat pockets, and hid away down
in an odd corner of his vest pocket he would accidentally find a
little chew, just big enough to make "spit come." Sneak had
his pockets full all the time. The boys soon found out his in-
uendoes and subterfuges, but John would all the time appear as
innocent of having tobacco as a pet lamb that has just torn down
a nice vine that you were so careful in training to run over the
front porch. Ah, John, don't deny it now!
I JINE THE CAVALRY.
When we got to Charleston, on the Hiwassee river, there
we found the First Tennessee Cavalry and Mnth Battalion,
both of which had been made up principally in Maury county,
and we knew all the boys. We had a good old-fashioned hand-
shaking all around. Then I wanted to "jine the cavalry."
< ;i plain Asa G. Freeman had an extra horse, and I got on him
and joined the cavalry for several days, but all the time some
passing cavalryman would make some jocose remark about "Here
is a webfoot who wants to jine the cavalry, and has got a bayonet
on his gun and a knapsack on his back." I felt like I had got
into the wrong pen, but anyhow I got to ride all of three days.
I n member that Mr. Willis B. Embry gave me a five-pound
package of Kallickanick smoking tobacco, for which I was very
grateful. I think he was quartermaster of the First Tennessee
Cavalry, and as good a man and as clever a person as I ever
knew. None knew him but to love him. I was told that he
was killed by a lot of Yankee soldiers after he had surrendered
to them, all the time begging for his life, asking them please not
kill him. But Tie that noteth the sparrow's fall doeth all things
well. Not one ever falls to the ground with His consent.
MURFREESBORO. 61
CHAPTER VI.— MURFREESBORO.
MURFREESBORO.
We came from Knoxville to Chattanooga, and seemed des-
tined to make a permanent stay here. We remained several
months, but soon we were on the tramp again.
From Chattanooga, Bragg's army went to Murfreesboro.
The Federal army was concentrating at Nashville. There
was no rest for the weary. Marches and battles were the order
of the day.
Our army stopped at Murfreesboro. Our advanced outpost
was established at Lavergne. From time to time different regi-
ments were sent forward to do picket duty. I was on picket at
the time the advance was made by Rosecrans. At the time men-
tioned, I was standing about two hundred yards off the road,
the main body of the pickets being on the Nashville and Mur-
freesboro turnpike, and commanded by Lieutenant Hardy Mur-
free, of the Rutherford Rifles.
I had orders to allow no one to pass. In fact, no one was
expected to pass at this point, but while standing at my post, a
horseman rode up behind me. I halted him, and told him to go
down to the main picket on the road and pass, but he seemed so
smiling that I thought he knew me, or had a good joke to tell me.
He advanced up, and pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket,
handed it to me to read. It was an order from General Leonidas
Polk to allow the bearer to pass. I read it, and looked up to
hand it back to him, when I discovered that he had a pistol
cocked and leveled in my face, and says he, "Drop that gun ; you
are my prisoner." I saw there was no use in fooling about it.
I knew if I resisted he would shoot me, and I thought then that
he was about to perform that detestable operation. I dropped
the gun.
I did not wish to spend my winter in a Northern prison,
62 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE BEGIMENT.
and what was worse, I would be called a deserter from my post
of duty.
The Yankee picket lines were not a half mile off. I was
perfectly willing to let the spy go on his way rejoicing — for such
he was — but he wanted to capture a Rebel.
And I had made up my mind to think likewise. There I
was, a prisoner sure, and no mistake about it.
His pistol was leveled, and I was ordered to march. I was
afraid to halloo to the relief, and you may be sure I was in a
bad fix.
Finally says I, "Let's play quits. I think you are a sol-
dier ; you look like a gentleman. I am a videt ; you know the
responsibility resting on me. You go your way, and leave me
here. Is it a bargain ?"
Says he, "I would not trust a Secesh on his word, oath, or
bond. March, I say."
I soon found out that he had caught sight of the relief on
the road, and was afraid to shoot. I quickly made up my mind.
My gun was at my feet, and one step would get it. I made a
quick glance over my shoulder, and grabbed at my gun. He
divined my motive, and fired. The ball missed its aim. He
put spurs to his horse, but I pulled down on him, and almost
tore the fore shoulder of his horse entirely off, but I did not cap-
ture the spy, though I captured the horse, bridle and saddle.
Major Allen, of the Twenty-seventh Tennessee Regiment, took
the saddle and bridle, and gave me the blanket. I remember
the blanket had the picture of a "big lion" on it, and it was al-
most new. When we fell back, as the Yankee sharpshooters
advanced, we left the poor old horse nipping the short, dry grass.
I saw a Yankee skirmisher run up and grab the horse and give a
whoop as if he had captured a Rebel horse. But they continued
to advance upon us, we firing and retreating slowly. We had
several pretty sharp brushes with them that day. I remember
that they had to cross an open field in our front, and we were
lying behind a fence, and as they advanced, we kept up firing,
and would run them back every time, until they brought up a
regiment that whooped, and yelled, and charged our skirmish
MURFREESBORO. 63
line, and then we fell back again. I think we must have killed
a good many in the old field, because we were firing all the time
at the solid line as they advanced upon us.
BATTLE OF MURFREESBORO.
The next day, the Yankees were found out to be advancing.
Soon they came in sight of our picket. We kept falling back
and firing all day, and were relieved by another regiment about
dark. We rejoined our regiment. Line of battle was formed
on the north bank of Stone's River — on the Yankee side. Bad
generalship, I thought.
It was Christmas. John Barleycorn was general-in-chief.
Our generals, and colonels, and captains, had kissed John a lit-
tle too often. They couldn't see straight. It was said to be
buckeye whisky. They couldn't tell our own men from Yan-
kees. The private could, but he was no general, you see. But
here they were — the Yankees — a battle had to be fought. We
were ordered forward. I was on the skirmish line. We
marched plumb into the Yankee lines, with their flags flying.
I called Lieutenant-Colonel Frierson's attention to the Yan-
kees, and he remarked, "Well, I don't know whether they are
Yankees or not, but if they are, they will come out of there
mighty quick."
The Yankees marched over the hill out of sight.
We were ordered forward to the attack. We were right
upon the Yankee line on the Wilkerson turnpike. The Yankees
were shooting our men down by scores. A universal cry was
raised, "You are firing on your own men." "Cease firing, cease
firing," I hallooed ; in fact, the whole skirmish line hallooed, and
kept on telling them that they were Yankees, and to shoot ; but
the order was to cease firing, you are firing on your own men.
Captain James, of Cheatham's staff, was sent forward and
killed in his own yard. We were not twenty yards off from the
Yankees, and they were pouring the hot shot and shells right
into our ranks; and every man was yelling at the top of his
voice, "Cease firing, you are firing on your own men ; cease fir-
ing, you are firing on your own men."
Oakley, color-bearer of the Fourth Tennessee Regiment, ran
64 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
right up in the midst of the Yankee line with his colors, begging
his men to follow. I hallooed till I was hoarse, "They are Yan-
kees, they are Yankees ; shoot, they are Yankees."
The crest occupied by the Yankees was belching loud with
fire and smoke, and the Rebels were falling like leaves of autumn
in a hurricane. The leaden hail storm swept them off the field
They fell back and re-formed. General Cheatham came up and
advanced. I did not fall back, but continued to load and shoot,
until a fragment of a shell struck me on the arm, and then a
minnie ball passed through the same, paralyzing my arm, and
wounded and disabled me. General Cheatham, all the time, was
calling on the men to go forward, saying, "Come on, boys, and
follow me."
The impression that General Frank Cheatham made upon
my mind, leading the charge on the Wilkerson turnpike, I will
never forget. I saw either victory or death written on his face.
When I saw him leading our brigade, although I was wounded
at the time, I felt sorry for him, he seemed so earnest and con-
cerned, and as he was passing me I said, "Well, General, if you
are determined to die, I'll die with you." We were at that time
at least a hundred yards in advance of the brigade, Cheatham all
the time calling upon the men to come on. He was leading the
charge in person. Then it was that I saw the power of one man,
born to command, over a multitude of men then almost routed
and demoralized. I saw and felt that he was not fighting for
glory, but that he was fighting for his country, because he loved
that country, and he was willing to give his life for his country
and the success of our cause. He deserves a wreath of immor-
tality, and a warm place in every Southron's heart, for his brave
and glorious example on that bloody battlefield of Murf reesboro.
Yes, his history will ever shine in beauty and grandeur as a
name among the brightest in all the galaxy of leaders in the his-
tory of our cause.
Now, another fact I will state, and that is, when the private
soldier was ordered to charge and capture the twelve pieces of
artillery, heavily supported by infantry, Maney's brigade raised
a whoop and yell, and swooped down on those Yankees like a
MURFREESB0R0. 65
whirl-a-gust of woodpeckers in a hail storm, paying the blue-
coated rascals back with compound interest; for when they did
come, every man's gun was loaded, and they marched upon the
blazing crest in solid file, and when they did fire, there was a
sudden lull in the storm of battle, because the Yankees were
nearly all killed. I cannot remember now of ever seeing more
dead men and horses and captured cannon, all jumbled together,
than that scene of blood and carnage and battle on the Wilkerson
turnpike. The ground was literally covered with blue coats
dead; and, if I remember correctly, there were eighty dead
horses.
By this time our command had re-formed, and charged the
blazing crest.
The spectacle was grand. With cheers and shouts they
charged up the hill, shooting down and bayoneting the flying
cannoneers, General Cheatham, Colonel Field and Joe Lee cut-
ting and slashing with their swords. The victory was complete.
The whole left wing of the Federal army was driven back five
miles from their original position. Their dead and wounded
were in our lines, and we had captured many pieces of artillery,
small arms, and prisoners.
When I was wounded, the shell and shot that struck me,
knocked me winding. I said, "O, O, I'm wounded," and at the
same time I grabbed my arm. I thought it had been torn from
my shoulder. The brigade had fallen back about two hundred
yards, when General Cheatham's presence reassured them, and
they soon were in line and ready to follow so brave and gallant a
leader, and had that order of "cease firing, you are firing on your
own men," not been given, Maney's brigade would have had the
honor of capturing eighteen pieces of artillery, and ten thousand
prisoners. This I do know to be a fact.
As I went back to the field hospital, I overtook another man
walking along. I do not know to what regiment he belonged, but
I remember of first noticing that his left arm was entirely gone.
His face was as white as a sheet. The breast and sleeve of his
coat had been torn away, and I could see the frazzled end of his
shirt sleeve, which appeared to be sucked into the wound. I
66 CO. H., FIBST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
looked at it pretty close, and I said "Great God !" for I could see
his heart throb, and the respiration of his lungs. I was filled
with wonder and horror at the sight. He was walking along,
when all at once he dropped down and died without a struggle or
a groan. I could tell of hundreds of such incidents of the battle-
field, but tell only this one, because I remember it so distinctly.
EOBBING A DEAD YANKEE.
In passing over the battlefield, I came across a dead Yankee
colonel. He had on the finest clothes I ever saw, a red sash and
tine sword. I particularly noticed his boots. I needed them,
and had made up my mind to wear them out for him. But I
could not bear the thought of wearing dead men's shoes. I took
hold of the foot and raised it up and made one trial at the boot
to get it off. I happened to look up, and the colonel had his
eyes wide open, and seemed to be looking at me. He was stone
dead, but I dropped that foot quick. It was my first and last
attempt to rob a dead Yankee.
After the battle was over at Murf reesboro, that night, John
Tucker and myself thought that we would investigate the con-
tents of a fine brick mansion in our immediate front, but between
our lines and the Yankees', and even in advance of our videts
Before we arrived at the house we saw a body of Yankees ap-
proaching, and as we started to run back they fired upon us
Our pickets had run in and reported a night attack. We ran
forward, expecting that our men would recognize us, but they
opened fire upon us. I never was as bad scared in all my whole
life, and if any poor devil ever prayed with fervency and true
piety, I did it on that occasion. I thought, "I am between two
fires." I do not think that a flounder or pancake wras half as flat
as I was that night ; yea, it might be called in music, low flat.
SHELBYVILLE. 67
CHAPTER VII.— SHELBYVILLE.
SHELBYVILLE.
It is a bad thing for an army to remain too long at one
place. The men soon become discontented and unhappy, and
we had no diversion or pastime except playing poker and chuck-
a-luck. All the money of the regiment had long ago been spent,
but grains of corn represented dollars, and with these we would
play as earnestly and as zealously as if they were so much
money, sure enough.
A FOOT RACE.
One of those amusing episodes that frequently occur in the
arm}', happened at this place. A big strapping fellow by the
name of Tennessee Thompson, always carried bigger burdens
than any other five men in the army. For example, he carried
two quilts, three blankets, one gum oil cloth, one overcoat, one
axe/ one hatchet, one camp-kettle, one oven and lid, one coffee
pot, besides his knapsack, haversack, canteen, gun, cartridge-box,
and three days' rations. He was a rare bird, anyhow. Tennes-
see usually had his hair cut short on one side and left long on the
other, so that he could give his head a bow and a toss and throw
the long hairs over on the other side, and it would naturally part
itself without a comb. Tennessee was the wit and good nature
of the company ; always in a good humor, and ever ready to do
any duty when called upon. In fact, I would sometimes get out
of heart and low spirited, and would hunt up Tennessee to have a
little fun. His bye-word was "Bully for Bragg; he's hell on
retreat, and will whip the Yankees yet." He was a good and
brave soldier, and followed the fortunes of Company H from the
beginning to the end.
Well, one day he and Billy Webster bet twenty-five dollars,
put up in Bill Martin's hands, as to which could run the faster.
John Tucker, Joe Lee, Alf . Horsley and myself were appointed
68 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
judges. The distance was two hundred yards. The ground was
measured off, and the judges stationed. Tennessee undressed
himself, even down to his stocking feet, tied a red handkerchief
around his head, and another one around his waist, and walked
deliberately down the track, eyeing every little rock and stick
and removing them off the track. Comes back to the starting-
point and then goes down the track in half canter ; returns again
his eyes flashing, his nostrils dilated, looking the impersonation
of the champion courser of the world ; makes two or three appar-
ently false starts; turns a somersault by placing his head on
the ground and flopping over on his back ; gets up and whickers
like a horse; goes half-hammered, hop, step, and jump — he says,
to loosen up his joints — scratches up the ground with his hands
and feet, flops his arms and crows like a rooster, and says, "Bully
for Bragg; he's hell on a retreat," and announces his readiness.
The drum is tapped, and off they start. Well, Billy Webster
beat him one hundred yards in the two hundred, and Tennessee
came back and said, "Well, boys, I'm beat ; Billy Martin, hand
over the stakes to Billy Webster. I'm beat, but hang me if 1
didn't outrun the whole Yankee army coming out of Kentucky ;
got away from Lieutenant Lansdown and the whole detail at
Chattanooga with half a hog, a fifty pound sack of flour, a jug
of Meneesee commissary whisky, and a camp-kettle full of brown
sugar. I'm beat. Billy Martin, hand over the stakes. Bully
for Bragg ; he's hell on a retreat." Tennessee was trying bluff.
He couldn't run worth a cent ; but there was no braver or truer
man ever drew a ramrod or tore a cartridge than Tennessee.
EATING MUSSELS.
Reader, did you ever eat a mussel ? Well, we did, at Shcl-
byville. We were camped right upon the bank of Duck river,
and one day Fred Dornin, Ed Voss, Andy Wilson and I went in
the river mussel hunting. Every one of us had a meal sack.
We would feel down with our feet until we felt a mussel and then
dive for it. We soon filled our sacks with mussels in their shells.
When we got to camp we cracked the shells and took out the
mussels. We tried frying them, but the longer they fried the
tougher they got. They were a little too large to swallow whole.
SHELBYVILLE. 69
Then we stewed them, and after a while we boiled them, and then
we baked them, but every flank movement we would make on
those mussels the more invulnerable they would get. We tried
cutting them up with a hatchet, but they were so slick and tough
the hatchet would not cut them. Well, we cooked them, and
buttered them, and salted them, and peppered them, and battered
them. They looked good, and smelt good, and tasted good; at
least the fixings we put on them did, and we ate the mussels. I
went to sleep that night. I dreamed that my stomach was four
grindstones, and that they turned in four directions, according
to the four corners of the earth. I awoke to hear four men yell
out, "O, save, O, save me from eating any more mussels !"
"poor" berry morgan.
One of those sad, unexpected affairs, that remind the living
that even in life we are in the midst of death, happened at Shel-
hyville. Our regiment had been out to the front, on duty, and
was returning to camp. It was nearly dark, and we saw a black
wind cloud rising. The lightning's flash and the deep mutterina
thunders warned us to seek shelter as speedily as possible. Some
of us ran in under the old depot shed, and soon the storm struck
us. It was a tornado that made a track through the woods be-
yond Shelby ville, and right through the town, and we could fol-
low its course for miles where it had blown down the timber,
twisting and piling it in every shape. Berry Morgan and I had
ever been close friends, and we threw down our blankets and
were lying side by side, when I saw roofs of houses, sign boards,
and brickbats flying in every direction. Nearly half of the town
was blown away in the storm. While looking at the storm with-
out, I felt the old shed suddenly jar and tremble, and suddenly
become unroofed, and it seemed to me that ten thousand brick-
bats had fallen in around us. I could hear nothing for the roar-
ing of the storm, and could see nothing for the blinding rain and
flying dirt and bricks and other rubbish. The storm lasted but
:i few minutes, but those minutes seemed ages. When it had
passed, I turned to look at "poor Berry." Poor fellow ! his head
was crushed in by a brickbat, his breast crushed in by another,
nn<l I think his arm was broken, and he was otherwise mutilated.
70 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
It was a sad sight. .Many others of our regiment were wounded.
Berry was a very handsome boy. He was what everybody
would call a ''pretty man." He had fair skin, blue eyes, and
fine curly hair, which made him look like an innocent child. I
loved Berry. He was my friend — as true as the needle to the
pole. But God, who doeth all things well, took his spirit in the
midst of the storm to that beautiful home beyond the skies. I
thank God I am no infidel. We will meet again.
WRIGHT SHOT TO DEATH WITH MUSKETRY.
I saw a young boy about seventeen or eighteen years old,
by the name of Wright, and belonging to General Marcus J.
Wright's brigade, shot to death with musketry at this place.
The whole of Cheatham's division had to march out and witness
the horrid scene. Xow, I have no doubt that many, if not all.
would have gone without being forced to do so, but then you
know that was Bragg's style. He wanted always to display his
tyranny, and to intimidate" his privates as much as possible.
The young man was hauled in a wagon, sitting on his coffin, to
the place where the grave was to be dug, and a post was planted
in the ground. He had to sit there for more than two hours,
looking on at the preparations for his death. I went up to the
wagon, like many others, to have a look at the doomed man. He
had his hat pulled down over his eyes, and was busily picking at
the ends of his fingers. The guard who then had him in charge
told me that one of the culprit's own brothers was one of the
detail to shoot him. I went up to the wagon and called him,
"Wright !" He made no reply, and did not even look up. Then
I said, "Wright, why don't you jump out of that wagon and
run?" He was callous to everything. I was sorry for him
When the division was all assembled, and the grave dug, and the
post set, he was taken out of the wagon, and tied to the post.
I I e was first tied facing the post, and consequently would have
been shot in the back, but was afterwards tied with his back to
the post The chaplain of the regiment read a chapter in the
Bible, sang a hymn, and then all knelt down and prayed.
General Wright went up to the pinioned man, shook hands with
him, and told him good-bye, as did many others, and then the
8HELBYVILLE. 71
shooting detail came up, and the officer in charge gave the com-
mand, "Ready, aim, fire !" The crash of musketry hroke upon
the morning air. I was looking at Wright. I heard him almost
shriek, "O, O, God !" His head dropped forward, the rope with
which he was pinioned keeping him from falling. I turned
away and thought how long, how long will I have to witness these
things ?
DAVE SUBLETT PROMOTED.
While at Shelbyville, a vacancy occurring in Captain Led-
better's company, the Rutherford Rifles, for fourth corporal,
Dave Sublett became a candidate for the position. Now, Dave
was a genius. He was a noble and brave fellow, and at one time
had been a railroad director. He had a distinguished air
always about him, but Dave had one fault, and that was, he was
ever prone to get tight. He had been a Union man, and even
now he always had a good word for the Union. He was sin-
cere, but eccentric. The election for fourth corporal was draw-
ing nigh. Dave sent off and got twro jugs of spirits vini fru-
menti, and treated the boys. Of course, his vote would be solid.
Every man in that company was going to cast his vote for him.
Dave got happy and wanted to make a speech. He went to the
butcher's block which was used to cut up meat on — he called it
Butchers' Hall — got upon it amid loud cheering and hurrahs of
the boys. He spoke substantially as follows :
"Fellow Citizens — I confess that it is with feelings of diffi-
dence and great embarrassment on my part that I appear before
you on* this occasion. But, gentlemen and fellow-citizens, I
desire to serve you in an humble capacity, as fourth corporal of
Company I. Should you see cause to elect me, no heart will
beat with more gratitude than my own. Gentlemen, you well
know that I was ever a Union man :
" 'A union of lakes, and a union of lands.
A union that no one can sever;
A union of hearts, and a union of hands,
A glorious union forever.'
[Cheers and applause.]
"Fellow-citizens, I can look through the dim telescope of
72 CO. K., FIEST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
the past and see Kansas, bleeding Kansas, coming like a fair
young bride, dressed in her bridal drapery, her cheek wet and
moistened with the tears of love. I can see her come and knock
gently at the doors of the Union, asking for admittance. [Wild
cheering.] Looking further back, I can see our forefathers of
the revolution baring their bosoms to the famine of a seven
years' war, making their own bosoms a breastwork against the
whole hosts of King George III. But, gentlemen, as I before
remarked, I desire to ask at your hands the high, distinguished
and lucrative office, my fellow-citizens, and for which I will ever
feel grateful — the office of fourth corporal in your company."
[Cheers.]
Now, Dave had a competitor who was a states' rights demo-
crat. If I mistake not, his name was Frank Haliburton. Now,
Frank was an original secessionist. He felt that each state was
a separate, sovereign government of itself, and that the South
had the same rights in the territories as they of the North. He
was fighting for secession and state rights upon principle.
When Sublett had finished his speech, Frank took the stand and
said:
"Gentlemen and Fellow-Citizens — I am a candidate for
fourth corporal, and if you will elect me I will be grateful, and
will serve you to the best of my ability. My competitor seems to
harp considerably upon his Union record, and Union love. If I
mistake not, my fellow-citizens, it was old George McDuffie that
-rood up in the senate chamber of the United States and said,
'When I hear the shout of "glorious Union," methinks I hear the
shout of a robber gang.' McDuffie saw through his prophetic
vision the evils that would result, and has foretold them as if by
inspiration from above.
"Fellow-citizens, under the name of Union our country is
invaded to-day.
"These cursed Yankees are invading our country, robbing
<>ur people, and desolating our land, and all under the detestable
and damning name of Union. Our representatives in congress
have been fighting them for fifty years. Compromise after com-
promise has been granted by the South. We have used every
SHELBY VILLE. 73
effort to conciliate those at the North. They have turned a deaf
ear to every plea. They saw our country rich and prosperous,
and have come indeed, like a gang of robbers, to steal our prop-
erty and murder our people. But, fellow-citizens, I for one am
ready to meet them, and desire that you elect me fourth corporal
of Company I, so that I can serve you in a more efficient man-
ner, while we meet as a band of brothers, the cursed horde of
Northern Hessians and hirelings. I thank you for your atten-
tion, gentlemen, and would thank you for your votes."
Well, the election came off, and Dave was elected by an
overwhelming majority. But the high eminence of military
distinction enthralled him. He seemed to live in an atmosphere
of greatness and glory, and was looking eagerly forward to the
time when he would command armies. He had begun to climb
the ladder of glory under most favorable and auspicious circum-
stances. He felt his consequence and keeping. He was detailed
once, and only once, to take command of the third relief of camp
guard. Ah, this thing of office was a big thing. He desired to
hold a council of war with Generals Bragg, Polk, Hardee, and
Kirby Smith. He first visited General Polk. His war metal
was up. He wanted a fight just then and there, and a fight he
must have, at all hazards, and to the last extremity. He became
obstreperous, when General Polk called a guard and had him
marched off to the guard-house. It was then ordered that he
should do extra fatigue duty for a week. The guard would take
him to the woods with an ax, and he would make two or three
chops on a tree and look up at it and say:
"Woodman, spare that tree; touch not a single bough;
In youth it sheltered me. and I'll protect it now."
He would then go to another tree ; but at no tree would he make
more than two or three licks before he would go to another. He
would hit a limb and then a log ; would climb a tree and cut at a
limb or two, and keep on this way until he came to a hard old
stump, which on striking his ax would bound and spring back.
He had found his desire; the top of that stump became fun and
pleasure. Well, his time of misdemeanor expired and he was
74 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
relieved, lie went back and reported to Colonel Field, who
informed him that he had been reduced to the ranks. He drew
himself up to his full height and said : "Colonel, I regret ex-
ceedingly to be so soon deprived of my new fledged honors that I
have won on so many a hard fought and bloody battlefield, but
if I am reduced to the ranks as a private soldier, I can but ex-
claim, like Moses of old, when he crossed the Red sea in defiance
of Pharaoh's hosts, 'O, how the mighty have fallen !' ' He then
marched off with the air of the born soldier.
DOWN DUCK RIVER IN A CANOE.
"Ora pro nobis.''
At this place, Duck river wended its way to Columbia. On
one occasion it was up — had on its Sunday clothes — a-booming.
Andy Wilson and I thought that we would slip off aud go down
the river in a canoe. We got the canoe and started. It was a
leaky craft. We had not gone far before the thing capsized,
and we swam ashore. But we were outside of the lines now, and
without passes. (We would have been arrested anyhow.) So
we put our sand paddles to work and landed in Columbia that
night. I loved a maid, and so did Andy, and some poet has said
that love laughs at grates, bars, locksmiths, etc. I do not know
how true this is, but I do know that when I went to see my sweet-
heart that night I asked her to pray for me, because I thought
the prayers of a pretty woman would go a great deal further "up
yonder" than mine would. I also met Cousin Alice, another
beautiful woman, at my father's front gate, and told her that she
must pray for me, because I knew I would be court-martialed as
soon as I got back ; that I had no idea of deserting the army and
only wanted to see the maid I loved. It took me one day to go
to Columbia and one day to return, and I stayed at home only
one day, and went back of my own accord. When I got back to
Shelbyville, I was arrested and carried to the guard-house, and
when court-martialed* was sentenced to thirty days' fatigue duty
and to forfeit four months' pay at eleven dollars per month, mak-
ing forty-four dollars. Now, you see how dearly I paid for that.
trip. But, fortunately for me, General Leonidas Polk has
SHELBYVILLE. 75
issued an order that very day promising pardon to all soldiers
absent without leave if they would return. I got the guard to
march me up to his headquarters and told him of my predica-
ment, and he ordered my release, but said nothing of remitting
the fine. So when we were paid off at Chattanooga I was left
out The Confederate States of America were richer by forty-
four dollars.
"SHENEKAL OWLEYDOUSKY."
General Owleydousky, lately imported from Poland, was
Bragg's inspector general. I remember of reading in the news-
papers of where he tricked Bragg at last. The papers said he
stole all of Bragg's clothes one day and left for parts unknown.
It is supposed he went back to Poland to act as "Ugh ! Big In-
dian ; fight heap mit Bragg." But I suppose it must have left
Bragg in a bad fix — somewhat like Mr. Jones, who went to ask
the old folks for Miss Willis. On being told that she was a very
poor girl, and had no property for a start in life, he simply said.
"All right; all I want is the naked girl."
On one occasion, while inspecting the arms and accoutre-
ments of our regiment, when he came to inspect Company H he
said, "Shentlemens, vat for you make de pothook out of de
sword and de bayonet, and trow de cartridge-box in de mud ? I
dust report you to Sheneral Bragg. Mine gracious !" Ap-
proaching Orderly Sergeant John T. Tucker, and lifting the flap
of his cartridge box, which was empty, he said, "Bah, bah, mon
Dieu ; I dust know dot you ish been hunting de squirrel and de
rabbit. Mon. Dieu! you sharge yourself mit fifteen tollars for
wasting sixty cartridges at twenty-five cents apiece. Bah, bah.
mon Dieu ; I dust report you to Sheneral Bragg." Approaching
Sergeant A. S. Horsley, he said, "Vy ish you got nodings mit
your knapsack ? Sir, you must have somedings mit your knap-
sack." Alf ran into his tent and came back with his knapsack
in the right shape. Well, old Owleydousky thought he would
be smart, and make an example of Alf, and said, "I vish to in-
spect your clodings." He took Alf's knapsack and on opening it.
what do you suppose was in it ? Well, if you are not a Yankee
and good at guessing, I will tell you, if you won't say anything
76 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
about it, for Alf might get mad if he were to hear it. He found
Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, Cruden's Concordance, Mac-
auley's History of England, Jean Valjean, Fantine, Cosset, Les
Miserables, The Heart of Midlothian, Ivanhoe, Guy Mannering,
Rob Roy, Shakespeare, the History of Ancient Rome, and many
others which I have now forgotten. He carried literature for
the regiment. He is in the same old business yet, only now he
furnishes literature bv the car load.
CHAPTER VIII.— CHATTANOOGA.
BACK TO CHATTANOOGA.
Rosecrans' army was in motion. The Federals were ad-
vancing, but as yet they were afar off. Chattanooga must be
fortified. Well do we remember the hard licks and picks that
we spent on these same forts, to be occupied afterwards by
Grant and his whole army, and we on Lookout Mountain and
Missionary Ridge looking at them.
AM VISITED BY MY FATHER.
About this time my father paid me a visit. Rations were
mighty scarce. I was mighty glad to see him, but ashamed to
lot him know how poorly off for something to eat we were. We
were living on parched corn. I thought of a happy plan to get
him a good dinner, so I asked him to let us go up to the colonel's
tent. Says I, "Colonel Field, I desire to introduce you to my
father, and as rations are a little short in my mess, I thought you
might have a little better, and could give him a good dinner.'1
"Yes," says Colonel Field, "I am glad to make the acquaintance
of your father, and will be glad to divide my rations with him.
CHATTANOOGA. / <
Also, I would like you to stay and take dinner with me," which
I assure you, O kind reader, I gladly accepted. About this time
a young African, Whit, came in with a frying-pan of parched
corn and dumped it on an old oil cloth, and said, "Master, din-
ner is ready." That was all he had. He was living like our-
selves— on parched corn.
We continued to fortify and build breatworks at Chatta-
nooga. It was the same drudge, drudge day by day. Occasion-
ally a Sunday would come; but when it did come, there came
inspection of arms, knapsacks and cartridge-boxes. Every sol-
dier had to have his gun rubbed up as bright as a new silver
dollar. W. A. Hughes had the brightest gun in the army, and
always called it "Florence Fleming." The private soldier had
to have on clean clothes, and if he had lost any cartridges he was
charged twenty-five cents each, and had to stand extra duty for
every cartridge lost. We always dreaded Sunday. The roll
was called more frequently on this than any other day. Some-
times we would have preaching. I remember one text that I
thought the bottom had been knocked out long before: "And
Peter's wife's mother lay sick of fever." That text always did
make a deep impression on me. I always thought of a young
divine who preached it when first entering the ministry, and in
about twenty years came back, and happening to preach from the
same text again, an old fellow in the congregation said, "Mr.
Preacher, ain't that old woman dead yet ?" Well, that was the
text that was preached to us soldiers one Sunday at Chattanooga.
I could not help thinking all the time, "Ain't that old woman
dead yet ?" But he announced that he would preach again at 3
o'clock. We went to hear him preach at 3 o'clock, as his sermon
was so interesting about "Peter's wife's mother lay sick of a
fever." We thought, may be it was a sort of sickly subject, and
he would liven us up a little in the afternoon service.
Well, he took his text, drawled out through his nose like
"small sweetness long drawn out:" "M-a-r-t-h-a, thou art
w-e-a-r-i-e-d and troubled about many things, but M-a-r-y hath
chosen that good part that shall never be taken from her." Well,
you see, O gentle and fair reader, that I remember the text these
78 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
long gone twenty years. I do not remember what he preached
about, but I remember thinking that he was a great ladies' man,
at any rate, and whenever I see a man who loves and respects the
ladies, I think him a good man.
The next sermon was on the same sort of a text : "And the
Lord God caused a deep sleep to fall on Adam and took out of" —
he stopped here and said e meant out of, that e, being translated
from the Latin and Greek, meant out of, and took e, or rather
out of a rib and formed woman. I never did know why he ex-
paciated so largely on e; don't understand it yet, but you see,
reader mine, that I remember but the little things that happened
in that stormy epoch. I remember the e part of the sermon more
distinctly than all of his profound eruditions of theology, dog-
mas, creeds and evidences of Christianity, and I only write at
this time from memory of things that happened twenty years ago.
"out a larking/'
At this place, we took Walter Hood out "a larking." The
way to go "a larking" is this: Get an empty meal bag and
about a dozen men and go to some dark forest or open field on
some cold, dark, frosty or rainy night, about five miles from
camp. Get some one who does not understand the game to hold
the bag in as stooping and cramped a position as is possible, to
keep perfectly still and quiet, and when he has got in the right
fix, the others to go off to drive in the larks. As soon as they get
out of sight, they break in a run and go back to camp, and go to
sleep, leaving the poor fellow all the time holding the bag.
Well, Walter was as good and as clever a fellow as you ever
saw, was popular with everybody, and as brave and noble a fellow
as ever tore a cartridge, or drew a ramrod, or pulled a trigger,
but was the kind of a boy that was easily "roped in" to fun or
fight or anything that would come up. We all loved him. Poor
fellow, he is up yonder — died on the field of glory and honor.
He gave his life, 'twas all he had, for his country. Peace to his
memory. That night we went "a larking," and Walter held the
bag. I did not see him till netx morning. While I was gulping
<lown my coffee, as well as laughter, Walter came around, looking
sort of sheepish and shy like, and I was trying to look as solemn
CHATTANOOGA. 79
as a judge. Finalfy he came up to the fire and kept on eyeing
me out of one corner of his eye, and I was afraid to look at him
for fear of breaking out in a laugh. When I could hold in no
longer, I laughed out, and said, "Well, Walter, what luck last
night ?" He was very much disgusted, and said, "Humph ! you
all think that you are smart. I can't see anything to laugh at in
such foolishness as that." He said, "Here ; I have brought your
bag back." That conquered me. After that kind of magnani-
mous act in forgiving me and bringing my bag back so pleasantly
and kindly, I was his friend, and would have fought for him. I
felt sorry that we had taken him out "a larking."
HANGING TWO SPIES.
I can now recall to memory but one circumstance that made
a deep impression on my mind at the time. I heard that two
spies were going to be hung on a certain day, and I went to the
hanging. The scaffold was erected, two coffins were placed on
the platform, the ropes were dangling from the cross beam above.
I had seen men shot, and whipped, and shaved, and branded at
Corinth and Tupelo, and one poor fellow named Wright shot at
Shelbyville. They had all been horrid scenes to me, but they
were Rebels, and like begets like. I did not know when it would
be my time to be placed in the same position, you see, and "a
fellow feeling makes us wondrous kind." I did not know what
was in store in the future for me. Ah, there was the rub, don't
you see. This shooting business wasn't a pleasant thing to think
about. But Yankees — that was different. I wanted to see a
Yankee spy hung. I wouldn't mind that. I would like to see
him agonize. A spy ; O, yes, they had hung one of our regiment
at Pulaski — Sam Davis. Yes, I would see the hanging. After
a while I saw a guard approach, and saw two little boys in their
midst, but did not see the Yankees that I had been looking for.
The two little boys were rushed upon the platform. I saw that
they were handcuffed. "Are they spies?" I was appalled; I
was horrified ; nay, more, I was sick at heart. One was about
fourteen and the other about sixteen years old, I should judge.
The ropes were promptly adjusted around their necks by the
provost marshal. The youngest one began to beg and cry and
80 CO. H., FIBST TENNESSEE BEGIMENT.
plead most piteously. It was horrid. The older one kicked
him, and told him to stand up and show the Rebels how a Union
man could die for his country. Be a man ! The charges and
specifications were then read. The props were knocked out and
the two boys were dangling in the air. I turned off sick at heart.
EATING KATS.
While stationed at this place, Chattanooga, rations were
very scarce and hard to get, and it was, perhaps, economy on the
part of our generals and commissaries to issue rather scant
rations.
About this time we learned that Pembertons army, sta-
tioned at Vicksburg, were subsisting entirely on rats. Instead
of the idea being horrid, we were glad to know that "necessity is
the mother of invention," and that the idea had originated in the
mind of genius. We at once acted upon the information, and
started out rat hunting ; but we couldn't find any rats. Presently
we came to an old outhouse that seemed to be a natural harbor for
this kind of vermin. The house was quickly torn down and out
jumped an old residenter, who was old and gray. I suppose
that he had been chased before. But we had jumped him and
were determined to catch him, or "burst a boiler.'' After chas-
ing him backwards and forwards, the rat finally got tired of this
foolishness and started for his hole. But a rat's tail is the last
that goes in the hole, and as he went in we made a grab for his
tail. Well, tail hold broke, and we held the skin of his tail in
our hands. But we were determined to have that rat. After
hard work we caught him. We skinned him, washed and salted
him, buttered and peppered him, and fried him. He actually
looked nice. The delicate aroma of the frying rat came to our
hungry nostrils. We were keen to eat a ]}iece of rat ; our teeth
were on edge ; yea, even our mouth watered to eat a piece of rat.
Well, after a while, he was said to be done. I got a piece of cold
corn dodger, laid my piece of the rat on it, eat a little piece of
bread, and raised the piece of rat to my mouth, when I happened
to think of how that rat's tail did slip. I had lost my appetite
for dead rat. I did not eat any rat. It was my first and last
offort to eat dead rats.
CHATTANOOGA. 81
SWIMMING THE TENNESSEE WITH ROASTINGEABS.
The Tennessee river is about a quarter of a mile wide at
Chattanooga. Right across the river was an immense corn-field.
The green corn was waving with every little breeze that passed ;
the tassels were bowing and nodding their heads ; the pollen was
flying across the river like little snow-drops, and everything
seemed to say, "Come hither, Johnny Reb; come hither, johnny ;
come hither." The river was wide, but we were hungry. The
roastingears looked tempting. We pulled off our clothes and
launched into the turbid stream, and were soon on the other bank.
Here was the field, and here were the roastingears; but where
was the raft or canoe ?
We thought of old Abraham and Isaac and the sacrifice1 :
"My son, gather the roastingears, there will be a way provided.''
We gathered the roastingears ; we went back and gathered
more roastingears, time and again. The bank was lined with
green roastingears. Well,- what was to be done ? We began to
shuck the corn. We would pull up a few shucks on one ear, and
tie it to the shucks of another — first one and then another — until
we had at least a hundred tied together. We put the train of
corn into the river, and as it began to float off we jumped in, and
taking the foremost ear in our mouth, struck out for the other
bank. Well, we made the landing all correct.
I merely mention the above incident to show to what ex-
tremity soldiers would resort. Thousands of such occurrences
were performed by the private soldiers of the Rebel army.
AM DETAILED TO GO FOKAGING.
One day I was detailed to go with a wagon train way down
in Georgia on a foraging expedition. It was the first time since
I had enlisted as a private that I had struck a good thing. No
roll call, no drilling, no fatigue duties, building fortifications,
standing picket, dress parade, reviews, or retreats, had to be
answered to — the same old monotonous roll call that had been
answered five thousand times in these three years. I felt like a
free man. The shackles of discipline had for a time been un-
fettered. This was bliss, this was freedom, this was liberty.
82 (JO. ii., LTBST TENNESSEE KEGIilENT.
The sky looked brighter, the birds sang more beautiful and
sweeter than I remember to have ever heard them. Even the
little streamlets aiid branches danced and jumped along the peb-
bly beds, while the minnows sported and frollicked under the
shining ripples. The very flocks and herds in the pasture looked
happy and gay. Even the screech of the wagons, that needed
greasing, seemed to send forth a happy sound. It was fine, I
tell you.
The blackberries were ripe, and the roadsides were lined
with this delicious fruit. The Lord said that he would curse the
ground for the disobedience of man, and henceforth it should
bring forth thorns and briars ; but the very briars that had been
cursed were loaded with the abundance of God's goodness. T
felt, then, like David in one of his psalms — "The Lord is good,
the Lord is good, for his mercy endureth forever."
PLEASE PASS THE BUTTER.
For several days the wagon train continued on until we had
arrived at the part of country to which we had been directed.
Whether they bought or pressed the corn, I know not, but the old
gentleman invited us all to take supper with him. If I have
ever eaten a better supper than that I have forgotten it. They
had biscuit for supper. What ! flour bread ? Did my eyes de-
ceive me ? Well, there were biscuit — sure enough flour bread —
and sugar and coffee — genuine Rio — none of your rye or potato
coffee, and butter — regular butter — and ham and eggs, and tur-
nip greens, and potatoes, and fried chicken, and nice clean plates
— none of your tin affairs — and a snow-white table-cloth and
napkins, and white-handled knives and silver forks. At the
head of the table was the madam, having on a pair of golden
spectacles, and at the foot the old gentleman. He said grace.
And, to cap the climax, two handsome daughters. I know that
I had never seen two more beautiful ladies. They had on little
white aprons, trimmed with jaconet edging, and collars as clean
nnd white as snow. They looked good enough to eat, and I think
at that time I would have given ten years of my life to have
kissed one of them. We were invited to help ourselves. Our
plates were soon filled with the tempting food and our tumblers
CHATTANOOGA. 83
with California beer. We would have liked it better had it been
twice as strong, but what it lacked in strength we made up in
quantity. The old lady said, "Daughter, hand the gentleman
the butter." It was the first thing that I had refused, and the
reason that I did so was because my plate was full already.
Now, there is nothing that will offend a lady so quick as to refuse
to take butter when handed to you. If you should say, "No,
madam, I never eat butter," it is a direct insult to the lady of the
house. Better, far better, for you to have remained at home that
day. If you don't eat butter, it is an insult ; if you eat too much,
she will make your ears burn after you have left. It is a regu-
lator of society; it is a civilizer; it is a luxury and a delicacy
that must be touched and handled with care and courtesy on all
occasions. Should you desire to get on the good side of a lady,
just give a broad, sweeping, slathering compliment to her butter.
It beats kissing the dirty-faced baby; it beats anything. Too
much praise cannot be bestowed upon the butter, be it good, bad,
or indifferent to your notions of things, but to her, her butter is
always good, superior, excellent. I did not know this charac-
teristic of the human female at the time, or I would have taken
a delicate slice of the butter. Here is a sample of the colloquy
that followed :
"Mister, have some butter ?"
"Not any at present, thank you, madam."
"Well, I insist upon it; our butter is nice."
"O, I know it's nice, but my plate is full, thank you."
"Well, take some anyhow."
One of the girls spoke up and said :
"Mother, the gentleman don't wish butter."
"Well, I want him to know that our butter is clean, any-
how."
"Well, madam, if you insist upon it, there is nothing that I
love so well as warm biscuit and butter. I'll thank you for the
butter."
I dive in. I go in a little too heavy. The old lady hints in
a delicate way that they sold butter. I dive in heavier. That
cake of butter was melting like snow in a red hot furnace. The
84 CO. II., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
old huh- says, "We sell butter to the soldiers at a mighty good
price."
I dive in afresh. She says, "I get a dollar a pound for that
butter/' and I remark with a good deal of nonchalance, "Well,
madam, it is worth it," and dive in again. T did not marry one
of the girls.
WE EVACUATE CHATTANOOGA.
One morning while sitting around our camp fires we heard
a boom, and a bomb shell passed over our heads. The Yankee
army was right on the other bank of the Tennessee river. Bragg
did not know of their approach until the cannon fired.
Rosecrans' army is crossing the Tennessee river. A part
are already on Lookout Mountain. Some of their cavalry scouts
had captured some of our foraging parties in Wills valley. The
air was full of flying rumors. Wagons are being packed, camps
are broken up, and there is a general hubbub everywhere. But
your old soldier is always ready at a moment's notice. The
assembly is sounded ; form companies, and we are ready for a
march, or a fight, or a detail, or anything. If we are marched a
thousand miles or twenty yards, it is all the same. The private
soldier is a machine that has no right to know anything. He is
amachine that moves without any volition of his own. If Edi-
son could invent a wooden man that could walk and load and
shoot, then you would have a good sample of the private soldier,
and it would have this advantage — the private soldier eats and
the wooden man would not.
We left Chattanooga, but whither bound we knew not, arid
cared not; but we marched toward Chickamauga and crossed at
Lee & Gordon's mill.
THE BULL ()K THE WOODS.
On our way to Lafayette from Lee & Gordon's mill, I
remember a ludicrous scene, almost, bordering on sacrilege.
Rosecrans' army was very near us, and we expected before three1
days elapsed to be engaged in battle. In fact, we knew there
mus't be a fight or a foot race, one or the other. We could smell,
as it were, "the battle afar off."
CHATTANOOGA. 85
One Sabbath morning it was announced that an eloquent
and able LL. D., from Nashville, was going to preach, and a?
the occasion was an exceedingly solemn one, we were anxious to
hear this divine preach from God's Holy Word ; and as he was
one of the "big ones," the whole army was formed in close col-
umn and stacked their arms. The cannon were parked, all
pointing back toward Chattanooga. The scene looked weird
and picturesque. It was in a dark wilderness of woods and
vines and overhanging limbs. In fact, it seemed but the home
of the owl and the bat, and other varmints that turn night into
day. Everything looked solemn. The trees looked solemn, the
scene looked solemn, the men looked solemn, even the horses
looked solemn. You may be sure, reader, 'that we felt solemn.
The reverend LL. D. had prepared a regular war sermon
before he left home, and of course had to preach it, appropriate
or not appropriate; it was in him and had to come out. He
opened the service with a song. I did remember the piece that
was sung, but right now I cannot recall it to memory ; but as
near as I can now recollect here is his prayer, verbatim et liter-
atim:
"Oh, Thou immaculate, invisible, eternal and holy Being,
the exudations of whose effulgence illuminates this terrestrial
sphere, we approach Thy presence, being covered all over with
wounds and bruises and putrifving sores, from the crowns of our
heads to the soles of our feet. And Thou, O Lord, art our der-
nier resort. The whole world is one great machine, managed
by Thy puissance. The beatific splendors of Thy face irradiate
the celestial region and felicitate the saints. There are the most
exuberant profusions of Thy grace, and the sempiternal efflux of
Thy glory. God is an abyss of light, a circle whose center is
everywhere and His circumference nowhere. Hell is the dark
world made up of spiritual sulphur and other ignited ingredi-
ents, disunited and unharmonized, and without that pure bal-
samic oil that flows from the heart of God."
When the old fellow got this far, I lost the further run of
his prayer, but regret very much that I did so, because it was so
grand and fine that I would have liked very much to have kept
86 CO. 1L., FIRST TENNESSEE KEGIMENT.
such an appropriate prayer for posterity. In fact, it lays it on
heavy over any prayer I ever heard, and I think the new trans-
lators ought to get it and have it put in their book as a sample
prayer. But they will have to get the balance of it from the
eminent LL. D. In fact, he was so "high larnt" that I don't
think any one understood him but the generals. The colonels
might every now and then have understood a word, and maybe
a few of the captains and lieutenants, because Lieutenant Lans-
down told me he understood every word the preacher said, and
further informed me that it was none of your one-horse, old-
fashioned country prayers that privates knew anything about,
but was bang-up, first-rate, orthodox.
Well, after singing and praying, he took his text. I quote
entirely from memory. "Blessed be the Lord God, who teaches
my hands to war and my fingers to fight." Now, reader, that
was the very subject we boys did not want to hear preached on —
on that occasion at least. We felt like some other subject would
have suited us better. I forget how he commenced his sermon,
but I remember that after he got warmed up a little, he began to
pitch in on the Yankee nation, and gave them particular fits as
to their geneology. He said that we of the South had descended
from the royal and aristocratic blood of the Huguenots of
France, and of the cavaliers of England, etc. ; but that the Yan-
kees were the descendants of the crop-eared Puritans and witch
burners, who came over in the Mayflower, and settled at Ply-
mouth Rock. He was warm on this subject, and waked up the
echoes of the forest. He said that he and his brethren would
fight the Yankees in this world, and if God permit, chase their
frightened ghosts in the next, through fire and brimstone.
About this time we heard the awfullest racket, produced by
some wild animal tearing through the woods toward us, and the
cry, "Look out! look out! hooie ! hooie! hooie! look out!" and
there came running right through our midst a wild bull, mad
with terror and fright, running right over and knocking down
the divine, and scattering Bibles and hymn books in every direc-
tion. The services were brought to a close without, the doxology.
This same brave chaplain rode along with our brigade, on
CHATTANOOGA. Hi
an old string-haltered horse, as we advanced to the attack at
Chickamauga, exhorting the boys to be brave, to aim low, and to
kill the Yankees as if they were wild beasts. He was eloquent
and patriotic. He stated that if he only had a gam he too would
go along as a private soldier. You could hear his voice echo and
re-echo over the hills. He had worked up his patriotism to a
pitch of genuine bravery and daring that I had never seen
exhibited, when fliff, fluff, fluff, fluff, fluff, FLUFF — a whir.
a boom ! and a shell screams through the air. The reverend
LL. D. stops to listen, like an old sow when she hears the wind,
and says, ''Remember, boys, that he who is killed will sup to-
night in Paradise." Some soldier hallooed at the top of his
voice, ''Well, parson, you come along and take supper with us."
Boom ! whir ! a bomb burst, and the parson at that moment put
spurs to his horse and was seen to limber to the rear, and almost
every soldier yelled out, "The parson isn't hungry, and never
eats supper." I remember this incident, and so does every
member of the First Tennessee Regiment.
PRESENTMENT. OR THE WING OF THE ANGEL OF DEATH.
Presentment is always a mystery. The soldier may at one
moment be in good spirits, laughing and talking. The wing of
the death angel touches him. He knows that his time has come.
It is but a question of time with him then. He knows that his
days are numbered. I cannot explain it. God has numbered
the hairs of our heads, and not a sparroAv falls without His
knowledge. How much more valuable are we than many spar-
rows.
We had stopped at Lee & Gordon's mill, and gone into
camp for the night. Three days' rations were being issued.
When Bob Stout was given his rations he refused to take them.
His face wore a serious, woe-begone expression. He was asked
if he was sick, and said "No," but added, "Boys, my days are
numbered, my time has come. In three days from to-day, I
will be lying right yonder on that hillside a corpse. Ah, you
may laugh ; my time has come. I've got a twenty dollar gold
piece in my pocket that I've carried through the war, and a silver
watch that my father sent me through the lines. Please take
88 CO. II., FIB£T TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
them off when I am dead, and give them to Captain Irvine, to
give to my father when he gets back home. Here are my cloth-
ing and blanket that any one who wishes them may have. My
rations I do not wish at all. My gun and cartridge-box I expect
to die with."
The next morning the assembly sounded about two o'clock.
We commenced our march in the darkness, and marched twenty-
five miles to a little town by the name of Lafayette, to the relief
of General Pillow, whose command had been attacked at that
place. After accomplishing this, we marched back by another
road to Chickamauga. We camped on the banks of Chicka-
mauga on Friday night, and Saturday morning we commenced
to cross over. About twelve o'clock we had crossed. No sooner
had we crossed than an order ea,me to double quick. General
Forrest's cavalry had opened the battle. Even then the spent
halls were falling amongst us with that peculiar thud so familiar
r»> your old soldier.
Double quick ! There seemed to be no rest for us. Forrest
is needing reinforcements. Double quick, close up in the rear !
siz, siz, double quick, boom, hurry up, bang, bang, a rattle de
bang, bang, siz, boom, boom, boom, hurry up, double quick,
boom, bang, halt, front, right dress, boom, boom, and three sol-
diers are killed and twenty wounded. Billy Webster's arm was
torn cut by the roots and he killed, and a fragment of shell
buried itself in Jim McEwin's side, also killing Mr. Fain King,
a conscript from Mount Pleasant. Forward, guide center,
march, charge bayonets, fire at will, commence firing. (This is
where the LL. D. ran.) We debouched through the woods, fir-
ing as we marched, the Yankee line about two hundred yards off.
Bang, bang, siz, siz. It was a sort of running fire. We kept
up a constant fire as we advanced. In ten minutes we were face
to face with the foe. It was but a question as to who could load
and shoot the fastest. The army was not up. Bragg was not
ready for a general battle. The big battle was fought the next
day, Sunday. We held our position for two hours and ten
minutes in the midst of a deadly and galling fire, being enfiladed
and almost surrounded, when General Forrest galloped up and
CHATTANOOGA. 89
said, "Colonel Field, look out, you are almost surrounded ; you
had better fall back." The order was given to retreat. I ran
through a solid line of blue coats. As I fell back, they were
upon the right of us, they were upon the left of us, they were in
front of us, they were in the rear of us. It was a perfect hor-
nets' nest. The balls whistled around our ears like the escape
valves of ten thousand engines. The woods seemed to be blaz-
ing; everywhere, at every jump, would rise a lurking foe. But
to get up and dust was all we could do. I was running along
by the side of Bob Stout. General Preston Smith stopped me
and asked if our brigade was falling back. I told him it was.
Tie asked me the second time if it was Maney's brigade that was
falling back. I told him it was. I heard him call out, "Atten-
tion, forward !" One solid sheet of leaden hail was falling
around me. I heard General Preston Smith's brigade open. It
seemed to be platoons of artillery. The earth jarred and trem-
bled like an earthquake. Deadly missiles were flying in every
direction. It was the very incarnation of death itself. I could
almost hear the shriek of the death angel passing over the scene.
General Smith was killed in ten minutes after I saw him. Bob
Stout and myself stopped. Said I, "Bob, you wern't killed, as
you expected." He did not reply, for at that very moment a
solid shot from the Federal guns struck him between the waist
and the hip, tearing off one leg and scattering his bowels all over
the ground. I heard him shriek out, "O, O, God!" His spirit
had flown before his body struck the ground. Farewell, friend ;
we will meet over yonder. I
When the cannon ball struck Billy Webster, tearing his
arm out of the socket, he did not die immediately, but as we
were advancing to the attack, we left him and the others lying
where they fell upon the battlefield ; but when we fell back to
the place where we had left our knapsacks, Billy's arm had been
dressed by Dr. Buist, and he seemed to be quite easy. He asked
Jim Fogey to please write a letter to his parents at home. He
wished to dictate the letter. He asked me to please look in his
knapsack and get him a clean shirt, and said that he thought he
would feel better if he could get rid of the blood that was upon
90 CO. II., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
him. I went to hunt for his knapsack and found it, but when I
got back to where he was, poor, good Billy Webster was dead.
He had given his life to his country. His spirit is with the good
and brave. ISTo better or braver man than Billy Webster ever
drew the breath of life. His bones lie yonder to-day, upon the
battlefield of Chickamauga. I loved him; he was my friend.
Many and many a dark night have Billy and I stood together
upon the silent picket post. Ah, reader, my heart grows sick
and I feel sad while I try to write my recollections of that
unholy and uncalled for war. But He that ruleth the heavens
doeth all things well.
CHAPTER IX.— CHICKAMAUGA.
BATTLE OF CHICKAMAUGA.
Sunday morning of that September day, the sun rose over
the eastern hills clear and beautiful. The day itself seemed to
have a Sabbath-day look about it. The battlefield was in a
rough and broken country, with trees and undergrowth, that
ever since the creation had never been disturbed by the ax of
civilized man. It looked wild, weird, uncivilized.
Our corps (Polk's), being in the engagement the day before,
were held in reserve. Reader, were you ever held in reserve of
an attacking army? To see couriers dashing backward and
forward ; to hear the orders given to the brigades, regiments and
companies; to see them forward in line of battle, the battle-flags
waving ; to hear their charge, and then to hear the shock of bat-
tle, the shot and shell all the while sizzing, and zipping, and
thudding, and screaming, and roaring, and bursting, and passing
right over your heads ; to see the litter corps bringing back the
CHICKAMAUGA. 91
wounded continually, and hear them tell how their command
was being cut to pieces, and that every man in a certain regiment
was killed, and to see a cowardly colonel (as we saw on this
occasion — he belonged to Longstreet's corps) come dashing back,
looking the very picture of terror and fear, exclaiming, "O, men.
men, for God's sake go forward and help my men! they are
being cut all to pieces ! we can't hold our position. O, for God's
sake, please go and help my command !" To hear some of our
boys ask, "What regiment is that? What regiment is that?''
He replies, such and such regiment. And then to hear some
fellow ask, "Why ain't you with them, then, you cowardly
puppy ? Take off that coat and those chicken guts ; coo, sheep ;
baa, baa, black sheep ; flicker, flicker ; ain't you ashamed of your-
self ? flicker, flicker ; I've got a notion to take my gun and kill
him," etc. Every word of this is true; it actually happened.
But all that could demoralize, and I may say intimidate a sol-
dier, was being enacted, and he not allowed to participate. How
we were moved from one position to another, but always under
fire; our nerves strung to their utmost tension, listening to the
roar of battle in our immediate front, to hear it rage and then
get dimmer until it seems to die out entirely ; then all at once it
breaks out again, and you think now in a very few minutes you
will be ordered into action, and then all at once we go double-
quicking to another portion of the field, the battle raging back
from the position we had left. General Leonidas Polk rides up
and happening to stop in our front, some of the boys halloo out,
"Say, General, what command is that which is engaged now?"
The general kindly answers, "That is Longstreet's corps. He is
driving them this way, and we will drive them that way, and
crush them between the 'upper and nether millstone.' ' Turn-
ing to General Cheatham, he said, "General, move your division
and attack at once." Everything is at once set in motion, and
General Cheatham, to give the boys a good send-off, says, "For-
ward, boys, and give 'em h — 1." General Polk also says a good
word, and that word was, "Do as General Cheatham says, boys."
(You know he was a preacher and couldn't curse.) After
marching in solid line, see-sawing, right obliqueing, left oblique-
92 cO. 11., FIRST TBarSiESSEE REGIMENT.
ing, guide center and close up; commence firing — fire at will;
charge and take their breastworks ; our pent-up nervousness and
demoralization of all day is suddenly gone. We raise one long,
loud, cheering shout and charge right upon their breastworks.
They are pouring their deadly missiles into our advancing ranks
from under their head-logs. We do not stop to look around to
see who is killed and wounded, but press right up their breast-
works, and plant our battle-flag upon it. They waver and break
and run in every direction, when General John C. Breckin-
ridge's division, which had been supporting us, march up and
pass us in full pursuit of the routed and flying Federal army.
AFTER THE BATTLE.
We remained upon the battlefield of Chickamauga all night.
Everything had fallen into our hands. We had captured a great
many prisoners and small arms, and many pieces of artillery and
wagons and provisions. The Confederate and Federal dead,
wounded, and dying were everywhere scattered over the battle-
field. Men were lying where they fell, shot in every conceivable
part of the body. Some with their entrails torn out and still
hanging to them and piled up on the ground beside them, and
they still alive. Some with their under jaw torn off, and hang-
ing by a fragment of skin to their cheeks, with their tongues
lolling from their mouth, and they trying to talk. Some with
both eyes shot out, with one eye hanging down on their cheek.
In fact, you might walk over the battlefield and find men shot
from the crown of the head to the tip end of the toe. And then
to see all those dead, wounded and dying horses, their heads and
tails drooping, and they seeming to be so intelligent as if they
comprehended everything. T felt like shedding a tear for those
innocent dumb brutes.
Reader, a battlefield, after the battle, is a sad and sorrowful
sight to look at. The glory of war is but the glory of battle, the
shouts, and cheers, and victory.
A soldier's life is not a pleasant one. It is always, at best,
one of privations and hardships. The emotions of patriotism
and pleasure hardly counterbalance the toil and suffering that he
CHICKAMAUGA. 93
has to undergo in order to enjoy his patriotism and pleasure
Dying on the field of battle and glory is about the easiest duty a
soldier has to undergo. It is the living, marching, fighting,
shooting soldier that has the hardships of war to carry. When
a brave soldier is killed he is at rest. The living soldier knows
not at what moment he, too, may be called on to lay down his life
on the altar of his country. The dead are heroes, the living are
but men compelled to do the drudgery and suffer the privations
incident to the thing called "glorious war."
A NIGHT AMONG THE DEAD.
We rested on our arms where the battle ceased. All around
us everywhere were the dead and wounded, lying scatterd over
the ground, and in many places piled in heaps. Many a sad and
heart-rending scene did I witness upon this battlefield of Chick-
amauga. Our men died the death of heroes. I sometimes think
that surely our brave men have not died in vain. It is true, our
cause is lost, but a people who loved those brave and noble heroes
should ever cherish their memory as men who died for them.
I shed a tear over their memory. They gave their all to their
country. Abler pens than mine must write their epitaphs, and
tell of their glories and heroism. I am but a poor writer, at
best, and only try to tell of the events that I saw.
One scene I now remember, that I can imperfectly relate.
While a detail of us were passing over the field of death and
blood, with a dim lantern, looking for our wounded soldiers to
carry to the hospital, we came across a group of ladies, looking
among the killed and wounded for their relatives, when I heard
one of the ladies say, "There they come with their lanterns." I
approached the ladies and asked them for whom they were look-
ing. They told me the name, but I have forgotten it. We
passed on, and coming to a pile of our slain, we had turned over
several of our dead; when one of the ladies screamed out, "O,
there he is! Poor fellow! Dead, dead, dead!" She ran to
the pile of slain and raised the dead man's head and placed it on
her lap and began kissing him and saying, "O, O, they have
killed my darling, my darling, my darling ! O, mother, mother,
what must I do! My poor, poor darling! O, they have killed
94 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE BEGIMENT.
him, they have killed him !" I could witness the scene no longer.
I turned and walked away, and William A. Hughes was crying,
and remarked, aO, law me; this war is a terrible thing." We
left them and began again hunting for our wounded. All
through that long September night we continued to carry off our
wounded, and when the morning sun arose over the eastern hills,
the order came to march to Missionary Ridge.
CHAPTER X.— MISSIONARY RIDGE.
MISSIONARY RIDGE.
After retreating from Chickamauga, the Yankees attempted
to re-form their broken lines on Missionary Ridge. We ad-
vanced to attack them, but they soon fell back to Chattanooga.
We knew they were in an impregnable position. We had built
those breastworks and forts, and knew whereof we spoke. We
stopped on Missionary Ridge, and gnashed our teeth at Chatta-
nooga. I do not know what our generals thought; I do not
know what the authorities at Richmond thought, but I can tell
you what the privates thought. But here we were on Missionary
Ridge and Lookout Mountain, looking right down into Chatta-
nooga. We had but to watch and wait. We would starve them
out.
The Federal army had accomplished their purpose. They
wanted Chattanooga. They laughed at our triumph, and
mocked at our victory. They got Chattanooga. "Now, where
are you, Johnny Reb ? What are you going to do about it %
You've got the dry grins, arn't you ? We've got the key ; when
the proper time conies we'll unlock your doors and go in. You
are going to starve us out, eh ? We are not very hungry at
MISSION AKY RIDGE. 95
present, and we don't want any more pie. When we starve out
we'll call on you for rations, but at present we are not starving,
by a jug full ; but if you want any whisky or tobacco, send over
and we'll give you some. We've got all we wanted, and assure
you we are satisfied."
The above remarks are the supposed colloquy that took
place between the two armies. Bragg, in trying to starve the
Yankees out, was starved out himself. Ask any old Rebel as to
our bill of fare at Missionary Ridge. In all the history of the
war, I cannot remember of more privations and hardships than
we went through at Missionary Ridge. And when in the very
acme of our privations and hunger, when the army was most
dissatisfied and unhappy, we were ordered into line of battle to
be reviewed by Honorable Jefferson Davis. When he passed by
us, with his great retinue of staff officers and play-outs at full
gallop^ cheers greeted them, with the words, "Send us something
to eat, Massa Jeff. Give us something to eat, Massa Jeff. I'm
hungry ! I'm hungry !"
SERGEANT TUCKER AND GENERAL WILDER.
At this place the Yankee outpost was on one side of the
Tennessee river, and ours on the other. I was on the detail one
Sunday commanded by Sergeant John T. Tucker. When we
were approaching we heard the old guard and the Yankee picket
talking back and forth across the river. The new guard imme-
diately resumed the conversation. We had to halloo at the top
of our voices, the river being about three hundred yards wide at
this point But there was a little island about the middle of the
river. A Yankee hallooed out, "O, Johnny, Johnny, meet me
half way in the river on the island." "All right," said Ser-
geant Tucker, who immediately undressed all but his hat, in
which he carried the Chattanooga Rebel and some other Southern
newspapers, and swam across to the island. When he got there
the Yankee was there, but the Yankee had waded. I do not
know what he and John talked about, but they got very friendly,
and John invited hirn to come clear across to our side, which
invitation he accepted. I noticed at the time that while John
swam, the Yankee waded, remarking that he couldn't swim.
96 CO. II., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
The river was but little over waist deep. Well, they came across
and we swapped a few lies, canteens and tobacco, and then the
Yankee went back, wading all the way across the stream. That
man was General Wilder, commanding the Federal cavalry, and
at the battle of Missionary Ridge he threw his whole division of
cavalry across the Tennessee river at that point, thus flanking
Bragg' s army, and opening the battle. He was examining the
ford, and the swapping business was but a mere by-play, lie
played it sharp, and Bragg had to get further.
MOCCASIN POINT.
Maney's brigade fortified on top of Lookout Mountain.
From this position we could see five states. The Yankees had
built a fort across the river, on Moccasin Point, and were throw-
ing shells at us continually. I have never seen such accurate
shooting in my life. It was upon the principle of shooting a
squirrel out of a tree, and they had become so perfect in their
aim, that I believe they could have killed a squirrel a mile off.
We could have killed a great many artillery men if we had been
allowed to shoot, but no private soldier was ever allowed to shoot
a gun on his own hook. If he shot at all, it must be by the order
of an officer, for if just one cartridge was shot away or lost, the
private was charged twenty-five cents for it, and had to do extra
duty, and I don't think our artillery was ever allowed to fire a
single shot under any circumstances. Our rations were cooked
up by a special detail ten miles in the rear, and were sent to us
every three days, and then those three days' rations were gen-
erally eaten up at one meal, and the private soldier had to starve
the other two days and a half. Never in all my whole life do I
remernber of ever experiencing so much oppression and humilia-
tion. The soldiers were starved and almost naked, and covered
all over with lice and camp itch and filth and dirt. The men
looked sick, hollow-eyed, and heart-broken, living principally
upon parched corn, which had been picked out of the mud and
dirt under the feet of officers' horses. We thought of nothing
hut starvation.
The battle of Missionary Ridge was opened from Moccasin
Point, while we were on Lookout Mountain, but I knew nothing
MISSIONARY RIDGE. 97
of the movements or maneuvers of either army, and only tell
what part I took in the battle.
BATTLE OF MISSIONARY RIDGE.
One morning Theodore Sloan, Hog Johnson and I were
standing picket at the little stream that runs along at the foot of
Lookout Mountain. In fact, I would be pleased to name our
caprain, Fulcher, and Lieutenant Lansdown, of the guard on thi>-
occasion, because we acted as picket for the whole three days'
engagement without being relieved, and haven't been relieved
yet. But that battle has gone into history. We heard a Yan-
kee call, "O, Johnny, Johnny Reb !" I started out to meet him
as formerly, when he hallooed out, "Go back, Johnny, go back ;
we are ordered to fire on you." "What is the matter ? Is your
army going to advance on us ?" "I don't know ; we are ordered
to fire." I jumped back into the picket post, and a minne ball
ruined the only hat I had ; another and another followed in quick
succession, and the dirt flew up in our faces off our little breast-
works. Before night the picket line was engaged from one end
to the other. If you had only heard it, dear reader. It went
like ten thousand wood-choppers, and an occasional boom of a
cannon would remind you of a tree falling. We could hear
colonels giving commands to their regiments, and could see very
plainly the commotion and hubbub, but what was up, we were
unable to tell. The picket line kept moving to our right. The
second night found us near the tunnel, and right where two rail-
roads cross each other, or rather one runs over the other high
enough for the cars to pass under. We could see all over Chat-
tanooga, and it looked like myriads of blue coats swarming.
Day's and Mannigault's brigades got into a night attack at
the foot of Lookout Mountain. I could see the whole of it. 1 1"
looked like lightning bugs on a dark night. But about mid-
night everything quieted down. Theodore Sloan, Hog Johnson
and myself occupied an old log cabin as vidette. We had not
slept any for two nights, and were very drowsy, I assure you.
but we knew there was something up, and we had to keep awake.
The next morning, nearly day, I think I had dropped off into a
pleasant doze, and was dreaming of more pretty things than you
98 CO. H., FIEST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
ever saw in your lif e, when Johnson touched me and whispered.
"Look, look, there are three Yankees; must I shoot?" I whis-
pered back ''Yes.'' A bang; "a waugh" went a shriek. He
had got one, sure. Everything got quiet again, and we heard
nothing more for an hour. Johnson touched me again and
whispered, "Yonder they come again; look, look!" I could not
see them; was too sleepy for that. Sloan could not see them,
either. Johnson pulled down, and another unearthly squall
vended the night air. The streaks of day had begun to glimmer
over Missionary Ridge, and I could see in the dim twilight the
Yankee guard not fifty yards off. Said I, "Boys, let's fire into
them and run." We took deliberate aim and fired. At that
they raised, I thought, a mighty sickly sort of yell and charged
the house. We ran out, but waited on the outside. We took a
second position where the railroads cross each other, but they
began shelling us from the river, when we got on the opposite
side of the railroad and they ceased.
I know nothing about the battle ; how Grant, with one wing,
went up the river, and Hooker's corps went down Wills valley,
etc. I heard fighting and commanding and musketry all day
long, but I was still on picket. Balls were passing over our
heads, both coining and going. I could not tell whether I was
standing picket for Yankees or Rebels. I knew that the Yan-
kee line was between me and the Rebel line, for I could see the
battle right over the tunnel. We had been placed on picket at the
foot of Lookout Mountain, but we were five miles from that place
now. If I had tried to run in I couldn't. I had got separated
from Sloan and Johnson somehow; in fact, was waiting either
for an advance of the Yankees, or to be called in by the captain
of the picket. I could see the blue coats fairly lining Missionary
Ridge in my read. The Yankees wore swarming everywhere.
They were passing me all day with their dead and wounded,
going back to Chattanooga. No one seemed to notice me; they
were passing to and fro, cannon, artillery, and everything. T
was willing to be taken prisoner, but no one seemed disposed to
do it. I was afraid to look at them, and I was afraid to hide,
for fear some one's attention would be attracted toward me. I
MISSIONARY RIDGE. 90
wished I could make myself invisible. I think I was invisible.
T felt that way anyhow. I felt like the boy who wanted to go to
the wedding, but had no shoes. Cassabianca never had such
feelings as I had that livelong day.
Say, captain, say, if yet my task be done?
And yet the sweeping waves rolled on,
And answered neither yea nor nay.
About two or three o'clock, a column of Yankees advancing
to the attack swept right over where I was standing. I was
trying to stand aside to get out of their way, but the more I tried
to get out of their way, the more in their way I got. I was car-
ried forward, I knew not whither. We soon arrived at the foot
of the ridge, at our old breastworks. I recognized Robert
Brank's old corn stalk house, and Alf Horsley's fort, an old log
house called Fort Horsley. I was in front of the enemy's line,
and was afraid to run up the ridge, and afraid to surrender.
They were ordered to charge up the hill. There was no firing
from the Rebel lines in our immediate front. They kept climb-
ing and pulling and scratching until I was in touching distance
of the old Rebel breastworks, right on the very apex of Mission-
ary Ridge. I made one jump, and I heard Captain Turner,
who had the very four Napoleon guns we had captured at Perry-
ville, halloo out, "Number four, solid !" and then a roar. The
next order wras, "Limber to the rear." The Yankees were cut-
ting and slashing, and the cannoneers were running in every
direction. I saw Day's brigade throw down their guns and
break like quarter horses. Bragg was trying to rally them. 1
heard him say, "Here is your commander," and the soldiers
hallooed back, "here is your mule."
The whole army was routed. I ran on down the ridge, and
there was our regiment, the First Tennessee, with their guns
stacked, and drawing rations as if nothing was going on. Says
I, "Colonel Field, what's the matter ? The whole army is rou eil
and running; hadn't you better be getting away from here?
The Yankees are not a hundred yards from here. Turner's
battery has surrendered, Day's brigade has thrown down their
arms; and look yonder, that is the Stars and Stripes." He
remarked very coolly, "You seem to be demoralized. We've
100 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
whipped them here. We've captured two thousand prisoners
and five stands of colors."
Just at this time General Bragg and staff rode up. Bragg
had joined the church at Shelby ville, but he had back-slid at
Missionary Ridge. He was cursing like a sailor. Says he,
"What's this ? Ah, ha, have you stacked your arms for a sur-
render?" "No, sir," says Field. "Take arms, shoulder arms,
by the right flank, file right, march," just as cool and deliberate
as if on dress parade. Bragg looked scared. He had put spurs
to his horse, and was running like a. scared dog before Colonel
Field had a chance to answer him. Every word of this is a
fact. We at once became the rear guard of the whole army.*
I felt sorry for General Bragg. The army was routed, and
Bragg looked so scared. Poor fellow, he looked so hacked and
whipped and mortified and chagrined at defeat, and all along the
line, when Bragg would pass, the soldiers would raise the yell,
"Here is your mule;" "Bully for Bragg, he's h — 1 on retreat."
Bragg was a good disciplinarian, and if he had cultivated
the love and respect of his troops by feeding and clothing them
better than they were, the result would have been different.
More depends on a good general than the lives of many privates.
The private loses his life, the general his country.
GOOD-BYE, TOM WEBB.
As soon as the order was given to march, we saw poor Tom
Webb lying on the battlefield shot through the head, his blood
and brains smearing his face and clothes, and he still alive. He
was as brave and noble a man as our Heavenly Father, in His
infinite wisdom, ever made. Everybody loved him. He was a
universal favorite of the company and regiment; was brave and
generous, and ever anxious to take some other man's place when
there was any skirmishing or fighting to be done. We did not
wish to leave the poor fellow in that condition, and A. S. Hors-
lev, John T. Tucker, Tennessee Thompson and myself got ji
litter and carried him on our shoulders through that livelong
*I remember of General Maney meeting Gary. I do not know who Gary
was, but Maney and Gary seemed to be very glad to see each other.
Every time I think of that retreat 1 think of Gary.
MISSIONARY RIDGE. 101
night back to Chickamauga Station. The next morning Dr. J.
E. Dixon, of Deshler's brigade, passed by and told us that it
would be useless for us to carry him any further, and that it was
utterly impossible for him ever to recover. The Yankees were
then advancing and firing upon us. What could we do? We
could not carry him any further, and we could not bury him, for
he was still alive. To leave him where he was we thought best.
We took hold of his hand, bent over him and pressed our lips to
his — all four of us. We kissed him good-bye and left him to
the tender mercies of the advancing foe, in whose hands he would
he in a few moments. No doubt they laughed and jeered at the
dying Rebel. It mattered not what they did, for poor Tom
Webb's spirit, before the sun went down, was with God and the
holy angels. He had given his all to his country. O, how we
missed him. It seemed that the very spirit and life of Com-
pany H had died with the death of good, noble and brave Tom
Webb.
I thank God that I am no infidel, and I feel and believe that
! will again see Tom Webb. Just as sure and certain, reader,
as you are now reading these lines, I will meet him up yonder —
1 know I will.
THE REAR GUARD.
When we had marched about a mile back in the rear of the
battlefield, we were ordered to halt so that all stragglers might
pass us, as we were detailed as the rear guard. While resting on
the road side we saw Day's brigade pass us. They were gunless,
cartridge-boxless, knapsackless, canteenless, and all other mili-
tary accoutermentsless, and swordless, and officerless, and they
all seemed to have the 'possum grins, like Bragg looked, and as
they passed our regiment, you never heard such fun made of a
parcel of soldiers in your life. Every fellow was yelling at the
top of his voice, "Yaller-hammer, Alabama, flicker, flicker,
flicker, yaller-hammer, Alabama, flicker, flicker, flicker." I felt
sorry for the yellow-hammer Alabamians, they looked so hacked,
and answered back never a word. When they had passed, two
pieces of artillery passed us. They were the only two pieces
not captured at Missionary Ridge, and they were ordered to
102 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE BEGIMENT.
immediately precede us in bringing up the rear. The whole
rear guard was placed under the command of the noble, gener-
ous, handsome and brave General Gist, of South Carolina. I
loved General Gist, and when I mention his name tears gather in
11 iy eyes. I think he was the handsomest man I ever knew.
Our army was a long time crossing the railroad bridge
across Chickamauga river. Maney's brigade, of Cheatham's
division, and General L. E. Polk's brigade, of Cleburne's divis-
ion, formed a sort of line of battle, and had to wait until the
stragglers had all passed. I remember looking at them, and as
they passed I could read the character of every soldier. Some
were mad, others cowed, and many were laughing. Some were
cursing Bragg, some the Yankees, and some were rejoicing at
the defeat. I cannot describe it. It was the first defeat our
army had ever suffered, but the prevailing sentiment was
anathemas and denunciations hurled against Jeff Davis for or-
dering Longstreet's corps to Knoxville, and sending off Generals
Wheeler's and Forrest's cavalry, while every private soldier in
the whole army knew that the enemy was concentrating at Chat-
tanooga.
CHICKAMAUGA STATION.
When we arrived at Chickamauga Station, our brigade and
General Lucius E. Polk's brigade, of Cleburne's division, were
left to set fire to the town and to burn up and destroy all those
immense piles of army stores and provisions which had been
accumulated there to starve the Yankees out of Chattanooga.
Great piles of corn in sacks, and bacon, and crackers, and mo-
lasses, and sugar, and coffee, and rice7 and potatoes, and onions.
and peas, and flour by the hundreds of barrels, all now to be
given to the flames, while for months the Rebel soldiers had been
stinted and starved for the want of these same provisions. It
was enough to make the bravest and most patriotic soul that ever
fired a gun in defense of any cause on earth, think of rebelling
against the authorities as they then were. Every private soldier
knew these stores were there, and for the want of them we lost
our cause.
Reader, I ask you who you think was to blame? Most of
MISSIONARY RIDGE. 103
our army had already passed through hungry and disheartened,
and here were all these stores that had to be destroyed. Before
setting fire to the town, every soldier in Maney's and Polk's
brigades loaded himself down with rations. It was a laughable
looking rear guard of a routed and retreating army. Every one
of us had cut open the end of a corn sack, emptied out the corn,
and filled it with hard-tack, and, besides, every one of us had a
side of bacon hung to our bayonets on our guns. Our canteens,
and clothes, and faces, and hair were all gummed up with mo-
lasses. Such is the picture of our rear guard. Now, reader, if
you were ever on the rear guard of a routed and retreating army,
you know how tedious it is. You don't move more than ten feet
at furthest before you have to halt, and then ten feet again a few
minutes afterwards, and so on all day long. You haven't time
to sit down a moment before you are ordered to move on again.
And the Yankees dash up every now and then, and fire a volley
into your rear. Now that is the way we were marched that live-
long day, until nearly dark, and then the Yankees began to.
crowd us. We can see their line forming, and know we have to
fight.
THE BATTLE OF CAT CREEK.
About dark a small body of cavalry dashed in ahead of us
and captured and carried off one piece of artillery and Colonel
John F. House, General Maney's assistant adjutant-general. We
will have to form line of battle and drive them back. Well, we
quickly form line of battle, and the Yankees are seen to emerge
from the woods about two hundred yards from us. We promptly
shell off those sides of bacon and sacks of hard-tack that wre had
worried and tugged with all day long. Bang, bang, siz, siz.
We are ordered to load and fire promptly and to hold our posi-
tion. Yonder they come, a whole division. Our regiment is
the only regiment in the action. They are crowding us ; our
poor little handful of men are being killed and wounded by
scores. There is General George Maney badly wounded and
being carried to the rear, and there is Moon, of Fulcher's bat-
talion, killed dead in his tracks. We can't much longer hold our
position. A minnie ball passes through my Bible in my side
104 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
pocket. All at once we are ordered to open ranks. Here conies
one piece of artillery from a Mississippi battery, bouncing ten
feet high, over brush and logs and bending down little trees and
sapl ings, under whip and spur, the horses are champing the bits,
and are muddied from head to foot. JSTow, quick, quick; look,
the Yankees have discovered the battery, and are preparing to
charge it. TTnlimber, horses and caisson to the rear. No. 1
shrapnel, load, fire — boom, boom ; load, ablouyat — boom, boom.
I saw Sam Seay fall badly wounded and carried to the rear. I
stopped firing to look at Sergeant Doyle how he handled his gun.
At every discharge it would bounce, and turn its muzzle com-
pletely to the rear, when those old artillery soldiers would return
it to its place — and it seemed they fired a shot almost every ten
seconds. Fire, men. Our muskets roll and rattle, making
music like the kettle and bass drum combined. They are
checked ; we see them fall back to the woods, and night throws
her mantle over the scene. We fell back now, and had to strip
and wade Chickamauga river. It was up to our armpits, and
was as cold as charity. We had to carry our clothes across on
the points of our bayonets. Fires had been kindled every few
yards on the other side, and we soon got warmed up again.
RINGGOLD GAP.
I had got as far as Ringgold Gap, when I had unconsciously
fallen asleep by a fire, it being the fourth night that I had not
slept a wink. Before [ got to this fire, however, a gentleman
whom I never saw in my life — because it was totally dark at the
time — handed me a letter from the old folks at home, and a good
suit of clothes. He belonged to Colonel Breckinridge's cavalry,
and if he ever sees these lines, I wish to say to him, "God bless
you, old boy." I had lost every blanket and vestige of clothing,
except those I had on, at Missionary Ridge. I laid down by the
fire and went to sleep, but how long I had slept I knew not, when
T felt a rough hand grab me and give me a shake, and the fellow
said, "Are you going to sleep here, and let the Yankees cut your
throat ?" I opened my eyes, and asked, "Who are you ?" He
politely and pleasantly, yet profanely, told me that he was Gen-
eral Walker (the poor fellow was killed the 22nd of July, at
MISSIONARY RIDGE. 105
Atlanta), and that I had better get further. He passed on and
waked others. Just then, General Cleburne and staff rode by
me, and I heard one of his staff remark, "General, here is a ditch,
or gully, that will make a natural breastwork." All I heard
General Cleburne say was, "Er, eh, eh !" I saw General Lucius
E. Polk's brigade form on the crest of the hill.
T went a little further and laid down again and went to
sleep. How long I had lain there, and what was passing over
me, I know nothing about, but when I awoke, here is what T
saw: I saw a long lino of blue coats marching down the rail-
road track. The first thought I had was, well, I'm gone up now,
sure ; but on second sight, I discovered that they were prisoners.
Cleburne had had the doggondest fight of the war. The ground
was piled with dead Yankees ; they were piled in heaps. The
scene looked unlike any battlefield I ever saw. From the foot
to the top of the hill was covered with their slain, all lying on
their faces. It had the appearance of the roof of a house shin-
gled with dead Yankees. They were flushed with victory and
success, and had determined to push forward and capture the
whole of the Rebel army, and set up their triumphant standard
at Atlanta — then exit Southern Confederacy. But their dead
were so piled in their path at Ringgold Gap that they could not
pass them. The Spartans gained a name at Thermopylae, in
which Leonidas and the whole Spartan army were slain while
defending the pass. Cleburne's division gained a name at Ring-
gold Gap, in which they not only slew the victorious army, but
captured five thousand prisoners besides. That brilliant victory
of Cleburne's made him not only the best general of the army of
Tennessee, and covered his men with glory and honor of heroes,
but checked the advance of Grant's whole army.
We did not budge an inch further for many a long day, but
we went into winter quarters right here at Ringgold Gap, Tun-
nel Hill and Dalton.
106 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
CHAPTER XL— D ALTON.
GENERAL JOSEPH E. JOHNSTON.
General Joseph E. Johnston now took command of the
army. General Bragg was relieved, and had become Jeff Davis'
war adviser at Richmond, Virginia. We had followed General
Bragg all through this long war. We had got sorter used to his
ways, but he was never popular with his troops. I felt sorry for
him. Bragg' s troops would have loved him, if he had allowed
them to do so, for many a word was spoken in his behalf, after
he had been relieved of the command. As a general I have
spoken of him in these memoirs, not personally. I try to state
facts, so that you may see, reader, why our cause was lost. I
have no doubt that Bragg ever did what he thought was best. He
was but a man, under the authority of another.
But now, allow me to introduce you to old Joe. Fancy, if
you please, a man about fifty years old, rather small of stature,
but firmly and compactly built, an open and honest countenance,
and a keen but restless black eye, that seemed to read your very
inmost thoughts. In his dress he was a perfect dandy. He ever
wore the very finest clothes that could be obtained, carrying out
in every point the dress and paraphernalia of the soldier, as
adopted by the war department at Richmond, never omitting
anything, even to the trappings of his horse, bridle and saddle.
His hat was decorated with a star and feather, his coat with
every star and embellishment, and he wore a bright new sash,
big gauntlets, and silver spurs. He was the very picture of a
general.
But he found the army depleted by battles ; and worse, yea,
much worse, by desertion. The men were deserting by tens and
hundreds, and I might say by thousands. The morale of the
army was gone. The spirit of the soldiers was crushed, their
hope gone. The future was dark and gloomy. They would not
DALTON. 107
answer at roll call. Discipline had gone. A feeling of mis-
trust pervaded the whole army.
A train load of provisions came into Dalton. The soldiers
stopped it before it. rolled into the station, burst open every car.
and carried off all the bacon, meal and flour that was on board.
Wild riot was the order of the day; everything was confusion
worse confounded. When the news came, like pouring oil upon
the troubled waters, that General Joe E. Johnston, of Virginia,
had taken command of the Army of Tennessee, men returned to
their companies, order was restored, and "Richard was himself
again." General Johnston issued a universal amnesty to all
soldiers absent without leave. Instead of a scrimp pattern of
one day's rations, he ordered two days' rations to be issued, being
extra for one day. He ordered tobacco and whisky to be issued
twice a week. He ordered sugar and coffee and flour to be is-
sued instead of meal. He ordered old bacon and ham to be
issued instead of blue beef. He ordered new tents and mar-
quees. He ordered his soldiers new suits of clothes, shoes and
hats. In fact, there had been a revolution, sure enough. He
allowed us what General Bragg had never allowed mortal man —
a furlough. He gave furloughs to one-third of his army at a
time, until the whole had been furloughed. A new era had
dawned; a new epoch had been dated. He passed through the
ranks of the common soldiers, shaking hands with every one he
met. He restored the soldier's pride; he brought the manhood
back to the private's bosom ; he changed the order of roll-call,
standing guard, drill, and such nonsense as that. The revolu-
tion was complete. He was loved, respected, admired; yea.
almost worshipped, by his troops. I do not believe there was a
soldier in his army but would gladly have died for him. With
him everything was his soldiers, and the newspapers, criticising
him at the time, said, "He would feed his soldiers if the country
starved."
We soon got proud ; the blood of the old Cavaliers tingled in
our veins. We did not feel that we were serfs and vagabonds.
We felt that we had a home and a country worth fighting for,
and, if need be, worth dying for. One regiment could whip an
108 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
army, and did do it, in every instance, before the command was
taken from him at Atlanta. But of this another time.
Chaplains were brought back to their regiments. Dr. O. T.
Quintard and Rev. C. D. Elliott, and other chaplains, held
divine services every Sabbath, prayer was offered every evening
at retreat, and the morale of the army was better in every re-
spect. The private soldier once more regarded himself a gen-
tleman and a man of honor. We were willing to do and die and
dare anything for our loved South, and the Stars and Bars of
the Confederacy. In addition to this, General Johnston ordered
his soldiers to be paid up every* cent that was due them, and a
bounty of fifty dollars besides. He issued an order to his troops
offering promotion and a furlough for acts of gallantry and
bravery on the field of battle.
The cloven foot of tyranny and oppression was not^discern-
ible in the acts of officers, from general down to corporal, as
formerly. Notwithstanding all this grand transformation in
our affairs, old Joe was a strict disciplinarian. Everything
moved like clockwork. Men had to keep their arms and cloth-
ing in good order. The artillery was rubbed up and put in good
condition. The wagons were greased, and the harness and
hamestrings oiled. Extra rations were issued to negroes who
were acting as servants, a thing unprecedented before in the
history of the war.
Well, old Joe was a yerker. He took all the tricks. He
was a commander. He kept everything up and well in hand
I Tis lines of battle were invulnerable. The larger his command,
the easier he could handle it. When his army moved, it was a
picture of battle, everything in its place, as laid down by scien-
tific military rules. When a man was to be shot, he was shot
for the crimes he had done, and not to intimidate and cow the
living, and he had ten times as many shot as Bragg had. He had
seventeen shot at Tunnel Hill, and a whole company at Rocky-
face Ridge, and two spies hung at Ringgold Gap, but they were
executed for their crimes. No one knew of it except those who
had to take part as executioners of the law. Instead of the whip-
ping post, he instituted the pillory and barrel shirt. Get Brutus
DALTON. 109
to whistle the barrel shirt for you. The pillory was a new-fan-
gled concern. If you went to the guard-house of almost any
regiment, you would see some poor fellow with his head and
hands sticking through a board. It had the appearance of a
fellow taking a running start, at an angle of forty-five degrees,
with a view of bursting a board over his head, but when the
board burst his head and both his hands were clamped in the
bursted places. The barrel shirt brigade used to be marched on
drill and parade. You could see a fellow's head and feet, and
whenever one of the barrels would pass, you would hear the
universal cry, "Come out of that barrel, I see your head and feet
sticking out." There might have been a mortification and a
disgrace in the pillory and barrel shirt business to those that had
to use them, but they did not bruise and mutilate the physical
man. When one of them had served out his time he was as good
as new. Old Joe had greater military insight than any general
of the South, not excepting even Lee. He was the born soldier ;
seemed born to command. When his army moved it moved
solid. Cavalry, artillery, wagon train, and infantry stepped the
same tread to the music of the march. His men were not al-
lowed to be butchered for glory, and to have his name and a
battle fought, with the number of killed and wounded, go back
to Richmond for his own glory. When he fought, he fought for
victory, not for glory. He could fall back right in the face of
the foe as quietly and orderly as if on dress parade ; and when
his enemies crowded him a little too closely, he would about face
and give them a terrible chastisement. He could not be taken
by surprise by any flank movement of the enemy. His soldiers
were to him his children. He loved them. They were never
needlessly sacrificed. He was always ready to meet the attack
of the enemy. . When his line of battle was formed it was like a
wall of granite. His adversaries knew him, and dreaded the
certain death that awaited them. His troops were brave; they
laughed in the face of battle. He had no rear guard to shoot
down any one who ran. They couldn't, run ; the army was
solid. The veriest coward that was ever born became a brave
man and a hero under his manipulation. His troops had the
110 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
utmost confidence in him, and feared no evil. They became an
arm}7 of veterans, whose lines could not be broken by the armies
of the world. Battle became a pastime and a pleasure, and the
rattle of musketry and roar of cannon were but the music of
victory and success.
COMMISSARIES.
Before General Joseph E. Johnston took command of the
Army of Tennessee, the soldiers were very poorly fed, it is true,
but the blame was not entirely attributable to General Bragg.
He issued enough and more than enough to have bountifully fed
his army, but there was a lot of men in the army, generally de-
nominated commissaries, and their "gizzards," as well as fingers,
had to be greased. There was commissary-general, then corps
commissary, then division commissary, then brigade commissary,
then regimental commissary, then company commissary. Now,
you know were you to start a nice hindquarter of beef, which
had to pass through all these hands, and every commissary take
a choice steak and roast off it, there would be but little ever reach
the company, and the poor man among the Johnnies had to feast
like bears in winter — they had to suck their paws — but the rich
Johnnies who had money could go to almost any of the gentle-
men denominated commissaries (they ought to have been called
cormorants) and buy of them much nice fat beef and meal and
flour and sugar and coffee and nice canvassed hams, etc. I have
done it many times. They were keeping back the rations that
had been issued to the army, and lining their own \ ockets. But
when General Johnston took command, this manipulating busi-
ness played out. Rations would "spile" on their hands.
Othello's occupation was gone. They received only one hundred
and forty dollars a month then, and the high private got plenty
to eat, and Mr. Cormorant quit making as much money as he
had heretofore done. Were you to go to them and make com-
plaint, they would say, "I have issued regular army rations to
your company, and what is left over is mine," and they were
mighty exact about it.
DAI/TON.
We went into winter quarters at Dalton, and remained
D ALTON. Ill
there during the cold, bad winter of 1863-64, about four months.
The usual routine of army life was carried on day by day, with
not many incidents to vary the monotony of camp life. But
occasionally the soldiers would engago in a snow ball battle, in
which generals, colonels, captains and privates all took part.
They would usually divide off into two grand divisions, one line
naturally becoming the attacking party, and the other the de-
fensive. The snow balls would begin to fly hither and thither,
with an occasional knock down, and sometimes an ugly wound,
where some mean fellow had enclosed a rock in his snow ball.
It was fun while it lasted, but after it was over the soldiers were
wet, cold and uncomfortable. I have seen charges and attacks
and routes and stampedes, etc., but before the thing was over,
one side did not know one from the other. It was a general
knock down and drag out affair.
SHOOTING A DESERTER.
One morning I went over to Deshler's brigade of Cleburne's
division to see my brother-in-law, Dr. J. E. Dixon. The snow
was on the ground, and the boys were hard at it, "snow balling."
While I was standing looking on, a file of soldiers marched by
me with a poor fellow on his way to be shot. He was blindfolded
and set upon a stump, and the detail formed. The command,
"Ready, aim, fire!" was given, the volley discharged, and the
prisoner fell off the stump. He had not been killed. It was
the sergeant's duty to give the coup d'etat, should not the pris-
oner be slain. The sergeant ran up and placed the muzzle of his
gun at the head of the poor, pleading, and entreating wretch, his
gun was discharged, and the wretched man only powder-burned,
the gun being one that had been loaded with powder only. The
whole affair had to be gone over again. The soldiers had to re-
load and form and fire. The culprit was killed stone dead this
time. He had no sooner been taken up and carried off to be
buried, than the soldiers were throwing snow balls as hard as
ever, as if nothing had happened.
TEN MEN KILLED AT THE MOURNERS'" BENCH.
At this place (Dalton) a revival of religion sprang up, and
112 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
there was divine service every day and night. Soldiers became
serious on the subject of their souls' salvation. In sweeping the
streets and cleaning up, an old tree had been set on fire, and had
been smoking and burning for several days, and nobody seemed
to notice it. That night there was service as usual, and the
singing and sermon were excellent. The sermon was preached
by .Rev. J. G. Bolton, chaplain of the Fiftieth Tennessee Regi-
ment, assisted by Rev. C. D. Elliott, the services being held in
the Fourth Tennessee Regiment. As it was the custom to "call
up mourners," a long bench had been placed in proper position
for them to kneel down at. Ten of them were kneeling at this
mourners' bench, pouring out their souJs in prayer to God, ask-
ing Him for the forgiveness of their sins, and for the salvation
of their souls, for Jesus Christ their Redeeemer's sake, when the
burning tree, without any warning, fell with a crash right across
the ten mourners, crushing and killing them instantly. God had
heard their prayers. Their souls had been carried to heaven.
Hereafter, henceforth, and forevermore, there was no more
marching, battling, or camp duty for them. They had joined
the army of the hosts of heaven.
By order of the general, they were buried with great pomp
and splendor, that is, for those times. Every one of them was
buried in a coffin. Brass bands followed, playing the "Dead
March," and platoons fired over their graves. It was a soldier's
funeral. The beautiful burial service of the Episcopal church
was read by Rev. Allen Tribble. A hymn was sung, and prayer
offered, and then their graves were filled as we marched sadly
back to camp.
DR. C. T. QUINTARD.
Dr. C. T. Quintard was our chaplain for the First Tennes-
see Regiment during the whole war, and he stuck to us from the
beginning even unto the end. During week days he ministered
to us physically, and on Sundays spiritually. He was one of
the purest and best men I ever knew. He would march and
carry Ills knapsack every day the same as any soldier. He had
one text he preached from which I remember now. It was "the
flying scroll." He said there was a flying scroll continually
DALTON. 113
passing over our heads, which was like the reflections in a look-
ing-glass, and all of our deeds, both good and bad, were written
upon it. He was a. good doctor of medicine, as well as a good
doctor of divinity, and above either of these, he was a good man
per se. Every old soldier of the First Tennessee Regiment will
remember Dr. C. T. Quintard with the kindest and most sincere
emotions of love and respect. He would go off into the country
and get up for our regiment clothing and provisions, and wrote
a little prayer and song book, which he had published, and gave
it to the soldiers. I learned that little prayer and song book off
by heart, and have a copy of it in my possession yet, which I
would not part with for any consideration. Dr. Quintard's
nature was one of love. He loved the soldiers, and the soldiers
loved him, and deep down in his heart of hearts was a deep and
lasting love for Jesus Christ, the Redeemer of the world, im-
planted there by God the Father Himself.
y's you got my hog ?
One day, a party of "us privates" concluded we would go
across the Conasauga river on a raid. We crossed over in a
canoe. After traveling for some time, we saw a neat looking
farm house, and sent one of the party forward to reconnoiter.
He returned in a few minutes and announced that he had found
a fine fat sow in a pen near the house. Now, the plan we
formed was for two of us to go into the house and keep the
inmates interested and the other was to toll and drive off the
hog. I was one of the party which went into the house. There
was no one there but an old lady and her sick and widowed
daughter. They invited us in very pleasantly and kindly, and
soon prepared us a very nice and good dinner. The old lady
told us of all her troubles and trials. Her husband had died
before the war, and she had three sons in the army, two of whom
had been killed, and the youngest, who had been conscripted,
was taken with the camp fever and died in the hospital at At-
lanta, and she had nothing to subsist upon, after eating up what
they then had. I was much interested, and remained a little
while after my comrade had left. I soon went out, having made
114 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE EEGIMENT.
up my mind to have nothing to do with the hog affair. I did
not know how to act. I was in a bad fix. I had heard the gun
fire and knew its portent. I knew the hog was dead, and went
on up the road, and soon overtook my two comrades with the
hog, which had been skinned and cut up, and was being carried
on a pole between them. I did not know what to do. On look-
ing back I saw the old lady coming and screaming at the top of
her voice, "You got my hog! You got my hog!" It was too
late to back out now. We had the hog, and had to make the
most of it, even if we did ruin a needy and destitute family.
We went on until we came to the Conasauga river, when lo and
behold! the canoe was on the other side of the river. It was
dark then, and. getting darker, and what was to be done we did
not know. The weather was as cold as blue blazes, and spit-
ting snow from the northwest. That river had to be crossed
that night. I undressed and determined to swim it, and went in .
but the little thin ice at the bank cut my feet. I waded in a
little further, but soon found I would cramp if I tried to swim
it. I came out and put my clothes on, and thought of a gate
about a mile back. We went back and took the gate off its
hinges and carried it to the river and put it in the water, but soon
found out that all three of us could not ride on it ; so one of the
party got on it and started across. He did very well until he
came to the other bank, which was a high bluff, and if he got off
the center of the gate it would capsize and he would get a duck-
ing. He could not get off the gate. I told him to pole the gate
up to the bank, so that one side would rest on the bank, and then
make a quick run for the bank. He thought he had got the gate
about the right place, and then made a run, and the gate went
under and so did he, in water ten feet deep. My comrade,
Fount C, who was with me on the bank, laughed, I thought,
until he had hurt himself; but with me, I assure you, it was
a mighty sickly grin, and with the other one, Barkley J., it was
anything but a laughing matter. To me he seemed a hero.
Barkley did about to liberate me from a very unpleasant posi-
tion. He soon returned with the canoe, and we crossed the river
with the hog. We worried and tugged with it, and got it to camp
just before daylight.
DALTON. 115
I had a guilty conscience, I assure you. The hog was
cooked, but I did not eat a piece of it. I felt that I had rather
starve, and I believe that it would have choked me to death if I
had attempted it.
A short time after ward an old citizen from Maury county
visited me. My father sent me, by him, a silver watch — which
I am wearing to-day — and eight hundred dollars in old issue
Confederate money. I took two hundred dollars of the money,
and had it funded for new issue, 33 1-3 cents discount. The
other six hundred I sent to Vance Thompson, then on duty at
Montgomery, with instructions to send it to my brother, Dave
Watkins, Uncle Asa Freeman, and J. E. Dixon, all of whom
were in Wheeler's cavalry, at some other point — I knew not
where. After getting my money, I found that I had $133.33 1-3.
I could not rest. I took one hundred dollars, new issue, and
going by my lone self back to the old lady's house, I said,
'"Madam, some soldiers were here a short time ago, and took
your hog. I was one of that party, and I wish to pay you for
it. What was it worth ?" "Well, sir," says she, "money is of
no value to me; I cannot get any article that I wish; I would
much rather have the hog." Says I, "Madam, that is an impos-
sibility; your hog is dead and eat up, and I have come to pay
you for it." The old lady's eyes filled with tears. She said
that she was perfectly willing to give the soldiers everything she
had, and if she thought it had done us any good, she would not
charge anything for it.
"Well," says I, "Madam, here is a hundred dollar, new issue,
Confederate bill. Will this pay you for your hog?" "Well,
sir," she says, drawing herself up to her full height, her cheeks
flushed and her eyes flashing, "I do not want your money. I
would feel that it was blood money." I saw that there was no
further use to offer it to her. I sat down by the fire and the
conversation turned upon other subjects.
I helped the old lady catch a chicken (an old hen — about
the last she had) for dinner, went with her in the garden and
pulled a bunch of eschalots, brought two buckets of water, and
cut and brought enough wood to last several days.
116 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
After awhile, she invited me to dinner, and after dinner I
sat down by her side, took her old hand in mine, and told her the
whole affair of the hog, from beginning to end ; how sorry I was,
and how I did not eat any of that hog ; and asked her as a special
act of kindness and favor to me, to take the hundred dollars ; that
I felt bad about it, and if she would take it, it would ease my
conscience. I laid the money on the table and left. I have
never in my life made a raid upon anybody else.
TARGET SHOOTING.
By some hook, or crook, or blockade running, or smuggling,
or Mason and Slidell, or Raphael Semmes, or something of the
sort, the Confederate States government had come in possession
of a small number of Whitworth guns, the finest long range guns
in the world, and a monopoly by the English government. They
were to be given to the best shots in the army. One day Captain
Joe P. Lee and Company H went out to shoot at a target for the
gun. We all wanted the gun, because if we got it we would be
sharpshooters, and be relieved from camp duty, etc.
All the generals and officers came out to see us shoot. The
mark was put up about five hundred yards on a hill, and each of
us had three shots. Every shot that was fired hit the board, but
there was one man who came a little closer to the spot than any
other one, and the Whitworth was awarded him; and as we just
turned round to go back to camp, a buck rabbit jumped up, and
was streaking it as fast as he could make tracks, all the boys
whooping and yelling as hard as they could, when Jimmy Web-
ster raised his gun and pulled down on him, and cut the rabbit's
head entirely off with a. minnie ball right back of his ears. He
was about two hundred and fifty yards off. It might have been
;iii accidental shot, but General Leonidas Polk laughed very
heartily at the incident, and I heard him ask one of his staff if
the Whitworth gun had been awarded. The staff officer re-
sponded that it had, and that a certain man in Colonel Farquhar-
son's regiment — the Fourth Tennessee — was the successful con-
testant, and I heard General Polk remark, "I wish I had
another gun to give, I would give it to the young man that shot
the rabbit's head off."
DALTON. 117
None of our regiment got a Whitworth, but it has been sub-
sequently developed that our regiment had some of the finest
shots in it the world ever produced. For instance, George and
Mack Campbell, of Maury county ; Billy Watkins, of Nashville,
and Colonel H. R. Field, and many others, who I cannot now
recall to mind in this rapid sketch.
UNCLE ZACK AND AUNT DAPHNE.
While at this place, I went out one day to hunt some one to
wash my clothes for me. I never was a good washerwoman. I
could cook, bring water and cut wood, but never was much oh
the wash. In fact, it was an uphill business for me to wash up
"the things" after "grub time" in our mess.
I took my clothes and started out, and soon came to a little
old negro hut. I went in and says to an old negress, "Aunty, I
would like for you to do a little washing for me." The old crea-
ture was glad to get it, as I agreed to pay her what it was worth.
Her name was Aunt Daphne, and if she had been a politician,
she would have been a success. I do not remember of a more
fluent "conversationalist" in my life. Her tongue seemed to be
on a balance, and both ends were trying to out-talk the other —
but she was a good woman. Her husband was named Uncle
Zack, and was the exact counterpart of Aunt Daphne. He
always sat in the chimney corner, his feet in the ashes, and gen-
erally fast asleep. I am certain I never saw an uglier or more
baboonish face in my life, but Uncle Zack was a good Christian,
and I would sometimes wake him up to hear him talk Christian.
He said that when he "fessed 'ligin, de debil come dare one
nite, and say, 'Zack, come go wid me,' and den de debil tek me
to hell, and jes stretch a wire across hell, and hang me up jes
same like a side of bacon, through the tongue. Well, dar I hang-
like de bacon, and de grease kept droppin' down, and would
blaze up all 'round me. I jes stay dar and burn ; and after while
de debil come 'round wid his gun, and say, 'Zack, I gwine to
shoot you,' and jes as he raise de gun, T jes jerk loose from dat
wire, and I jes fly to heben."
"Fly ! did you have wings ?"
"O, yes, sir, I had wings."
118 CO. II., FIEST TENNESSEE HEGIMEXT.
"Well, after you got to heaven, what did you do then ?"
"Well, I jes went to eatin' grass like all de balance of cle
lams."
" What ! were they eating grass ?"
"O, yes, sir."
"Well, what color were the lambs, Uncle Zack ?"
"Well, sir, some of dem was white, and some black, and
some spotted."
"Were there no old rams or ewes among them ?"
"No, sir ; dey was all lams."
"Well, Uncle Zack, what sort of a looking lamb were you ?"
"Well, sir, I was sort of specklish and brown like.''
Old Zack begins to get sleepy.
"Did you have horns, Uncle Zack ?"
"Well, some of dem had little horns dat look like dey was
jes sorter sproutin' like."
Zack begins to nod and doze a little.
"Well, how often did they shear the lambs, Uncle Zack ?"
"Well, w-e-1-1, w — e — 1 — 1— ," and Uncle Zack was fast
asleep and snoring, and dreaming no doubt of the beautiful pas-
tures glimmering above the clouds of heaven/
BED TArE.
While here I applied for a furlough. Now, reader, here
commenced a series of red tapeism that always had characterized
the officers under Braggism. It had to go through every offi-
cer's hands, from corporal up, before it was forwarded to the
next officer of higher grade, and so it passed through every offi-
cer's hands. He felt it his sworn and bound duty to find some
informality in it, and it was brought back for correction accord-
ing to his notions, you see. Well, after getting the corporal's
consent and approval, it goes up to the sergeant. It ain't right !
Some informality, perhaps, in the wording and spelling. Then
the lieutenants had to have a say in it, and when it got to the
captain, it had to be read and re-read, to see that every "i" was
dotted and "t" crossed, but returned because there was one word
that he couldn't make out. Then it was forwarded to the
colonel. He would snatch it out of your hand, grit his teeth,
DALTON. 119
and say, "D — n it;" feel in his vest pocket and take ont a lead
pencil, and simply write "app." for approved. This would also
be returned, with instructions that the colonel must write "ap-
proved" in a plain hand, and with pen and ink. Then it went
to the brigadier-general. He would be engaged in a game of
poker, and would tell you to call again, as he didn't have time to
bother with those small affairs at present. "I'll see your five
and raise you ten." "I have a straight flush." "Take the pot.'"
After setting him out, and when it wasn't his deal, I get up and
walk around, always keeping the furlough in sight. After read-
ing carefully the furlough, he says, "Well, sir you have failed to
get the adjutant's name to it. You ought to have the colonel and
adjutant, and you must go back and get their signatures." After
this, you go to the major-general. He is an old aristocratic fel-
low, who never smiles, and tries to look as sour as vinegar. He
looks at the furlough, and looks down at the ground, holding the
furlough in his hand in a kind of dreamy way, and then says,
"Well, sir, this is all informal." You say, "Well, General, what
is the matter with it?" He looks at you as if he hadn't heard
you, and repeats very slowly, "Well, sir, this is informal," and
hands it back to you. You take it, feeling all the while that you
wished you had not applied for a furlough, and by summoning
all the fortitude that you possess, you say in a husky and choking
voice, "Well, general (you say the "general" in a sort of gulp
and dry swallow), what's the matter with the furlough ?" You
look askance, and he very languidly re-takes the furlough and
glances over it, orders his negro boy to go and feed his horse,
asks his cook how long it will be before dinner, hallooes at some
fellow away down the hill that he would like for him to call at 4
o'clock this evening, and tells his adjutant to sign the furlough.
The adjutant tries to be smart and polite, smiles a smole both
child-like and bland, rolls up his shirt-sleeves, and winks one eye
at you, gets astraddle of a camp-stool, whistles a little stanza of
schottische, and with a big flourish of his pen, writes the major-
general's name in small letters, and his own — the adjutant's —
in very large letters, bringing the pen under it with tremendous
flourishes, and writes approved an/1 forwarded. You feel re-
120 CO. H., EIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
lieved. You feel that the anaconda's coil had been suddenly
realxed. Then you start out to the lieutenant-general ; you find
him. He is in a very learned and dignified conversation about
the war in Chili. Well, you get very anxious for the war in
Chili to get to an end. The general pulls his side-whiskers,
looks wise, and tells his adjutant to look over it, and, if correct,
sign it. The adjutant does not deign to condescend to notice
you. He seems to be full of gumbo or calf-tail soup, and does
not wish his equanimity disturbed. He takes hold of the docu-
ment, and writes the lieutenant-general's name, and finishes his
own name while looking in another direction — approved and
forwarded. Then you take it up to the general ; the guard stops
you in a very formal way, and asks, "What do you want ?" You
tell him. He calls for the orderly ; the orderly gives it to the
adjutant, and you are informed that it will be sent to your
colonel to-night, and given to you at roll-call in the morning.
Xow, reader, the above is a pretty true picture of how I got my
furlough.
I GET A FURLOUGH.
After going through all the formality of red-tapeism, and
being snubbed with tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee, I got my fur-
lough. When it started out, it was on the cleanest piece of paper
that could be found in Buck Lanier's sutler's store. After it
came back, it was pretty well used up, and looked as if it had
gone through a very dark place, and been beat with a soot-bag.
But, anyhow, I know that I did not appreciate my furlough
half as much as I thought I would. I felt like returning it to
the gentlemen with my compliments, declining their kind fa-
vors. I felt that it was unwillingly given, and, as like begets
like, it was very unwillingly received. Honestly, I felt as if I
had made a bad bargain, and was keen to rue the trade. I did
not know what to do with it; but, anyhow, I thought I would
make the best of a bad bargain. I got on the cars at Dalton —
now, here is a thing that I had long since forgotten about — it was
the first first-class passenger car that I had been in since I had
been a soldier. The conductor passed around, and handed me a
ticket with these words on it :
DALTON. 121
"If you wish to travel with ease,
Keep this ticket in sight, If yon please;
And if yon wish to take a nap,
Just stick this in your hat or cap."
This was the poetry, reader, that was upon the ticket. The
conductor called around every now and then, especially if you
were asleep, to look at your ticket, and every now and then a
captain and a detail of three soldiers would want to look at your
furlough. I thought before I got to Selma, Alabama, that I
wished the ticket and furlough both were in the bottom of the
ocean, and myself back in camp. Everywhere I went some one
wanted to see my furlough. Before I got my furlough, I
thought it sounded big. Furlough was a war word, and I did
not comprehend its meaning until I got one. The very word
''furlough" made me sick then. I feel fainty now whenever I
think of furlough. It. has a sickening sound in the ring of it —
"furlough!" "Furloeh," it ought to have been called. Every
man I met had a furlough ; in fact., it seemed to have the very
double-extract of romance about it — "fur too, eh 3" Men who
1 knew had never been in the army in their lives, all had fur-
loughs. Where so many men ever got furloughs from I never
knew; but I know now. They were like the old bachelor who
married the widow with ten children — he married a "ready-
made" family. They had ready-made furloughs. But I have
said enough on the furlough question ; it enthralled me — let it
pass ; don't want any more furloughs. But while on my fur-
lough, I got with Captain G. M. V. Kinzer, a tine-dressed and
handsome cavalry captain, whom all the ladies (as they do at
the present day), fell in love with. The captain and myself
were great friends. The captain gave me his old coat to act
captain in, but the old thing wouldn't act. I would keep the
collar turned doAvn. One night we went to call on a couple of
beautiful and interesting ladies near Selma. We chatted the
girls until the "wee sma' hours" of morning, and when the young
ladies retired, remarked that they would send a servant to show
us to our room. We waited; no servant came. The captain
and myself snoozed it out as best we could. About daylight the
next morning the captain and myself thought that we would ap-
pear as if we had risen very early, and began to move about, and
122 CO. H.j ETBST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
opening the door, there lay a big black negro on his knees and
face. Now, reader, what do you suppose that negro was doing %
You could not guess in a week. The black rascal ! hideous !
terrible to contemplate! vile! outrageous! Well, words cannot
express it. What do you suppose he was doing ? He was fast
asleep. He had come thus far, and could go no further, and
fell asleep. There is where the captain and myself found him
at daylight the next morning. We left for Selma immediately
after breakfast, leaving the family in ignorance of the occur-
rence. The captain and myself had several other adventures,
but the captain always had the advantage of me ; he had the
good clothes, and the good looks, and got all the good presents
from the pretty young ladies — well, you might say, "cut me
out" on all occasions. "That's what makes me 'spise a fur-
lough." But then furlough sounds big, you know.
CHAPTER XII.— HUNDRED DAYS' BATTLE.
ROCKY FACE KLDGE.
When I got back to Dalton, I found the Yankee army ad-
vancing; they were at Rocky Face Ridge. Now, for old Joe's
generalship. We have seen him in camp, now we will see him in
action. We are marched to meet the enemy ; we occupy Tur-
ner's Gap at Tunnel Hill. Now, come on, Mr. Yank — we are
keen for an engagement. It is like a picnic; the soldiers are
ruddy and fat, and strong; whoop! whoop! hurrah! come on,
Mr. Yank. We form line of battle on top of Rocky Face Ridge,
and here we are face to face with the enemy. Why don't you
unbottle your thunderbolts and dash us to pieces ? Ha ! here it
comes ; the boom of cannon and the bursting of a shell in our
HUNDRED DAYS' BATTLE. 123
midst. Ha ! ha ! give us another blizzard ! Boom ! boom !
That's all right, you ain't hurting nothing.
"Hold on, boys," says a sharpshooter, armed with a Whit-
worth gun, "I'll stop that racket. Wait until I see her smoke
again." Boom ! boom ! the keen crack of the Whitworth rin^s
upon the frosty morning air; the cannoneers are seen to lie
down ; something is going on. "Yes, yonder is a fellow being-
carried off on a litter." Bang ! bang ! goes the Whitworth, and
the battery is seen to limber to the rear. What next ? a yell !
What does this yell mean ? A charge right up the hill, and a
little sharp skirmish for a few moments. We can see the Yan-
kee line. They are resting on their arms. The valley below is
full of blue coats, but a little too far off to do any execution.
Old Joe walks along the line. He happens to see the blue
coats in the valley, in plain view. Company H is ordered to fire
on them. We take deliberate aim and fire a solid volley of mi ri-
me balls into their midst. We see a terrible conspluttermont
among them, and know that we have killed and wounded several
of Sherman's incendiaries. They seem to get mad at our audac-
ity, and ten pieces of cannon are brought up, and pointed right
toward us. We see the smoke boil up, and a moment afterwards
the shell is roaring and bursting right among us. Ha ! ha ! ha !
that's funny — we love the noise of battle. Captain Joe P. Lee
orders us to load and fire at will upon these batteries. Our En-
fields crack, keen and sharp ; and ha, ha, ha, look yonder ! The
Yankees are running away from their cannon, leaving two pieces
to take care of themselves. Yonder goes a dash of our cavalry.
They are charging right up in the midst of the Yankee line.
Three men are far in advance. Look out, boys! What does
that mean ? Our cavalry are falling back, and the three men
are cut off. They will be captured, sure. They turn to get
back to our lines. We can see the smoke boil up, and hear the
discharge of musketry from the Yankee lines. One man's horse
is seen to blunder and fall, one man reels in his saddle, and falls
a corpse, and the other is seen to surrender. But, look yonder !
the man's horse that blundered and fell is up again ; he mounts
his horse in fifty yards of the whole Yankee line, is seen to lie
124 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE KEGIMENT.
down on his neck, and is spurring him right on toward the solid
line of blue coats. Look how he rides, and the ranks of the blue
coats open. Hurrah for the brave Rebel boy ! He has passed
and is seen to regain his regiment. I afterwards learned that
that brave Rebel boy was my own brother, Dave, who, at that
time was not more than sixteen years old. The one who was
killed was named Grimes, and the one captured was named
Houser, and the regiment was the First Tennessee Cavalry, then
commanded by Colonel J. H. Lewis. You could have heard the
cheers from both sides, it seemed, for miles.
John Branch raised the tune, in which the whole First and
Twenty-seventh Regiments join in:
'•Cheer, hoys, cheer, we are marching on to battle!
Cheer, boys, cheer, for our sweethearts and our wives!
Cheer, boys, cheer, we'll nobly do our duty.
And give to the South our hearts, our arms, our lives.
Old Lincoln, with his hireling hosts,
Will never whip the South,
Shouting the battle cry of freedom."
All this is taking place while the Yankees are fully one
thousand yards off. We can see every movement that is made,
and we know that Sherman's incendiaries are already hacked.
Sherman himself is a coward, and dares not try his strength
with old Joe. Sherman never fights ; all that he is after is
marching to the sea, while the world looks on and wonders:
•'What a flank movement!" Yes, Sherman is afraid of minnie
balls, and tries the flank movement. We are ordered to march
somewhere.
^FALLING BACK."
Old Joe knows what he is up to. Every night we change
our position. The morrow's sun finds us face to face with the
Yankee lines. The troops are in excellent spirits. Yonder are
our "big guns," our cavalry — Forrest and Wheeler — our sharp-
shooters, and here is our wagon and supply train, right in our
midst. The private's tread is light — his soul is happy.
Another flank movement. To-morrow finds us face to face.
Well, you have come here to fight us ; why don't you come on \
We are ready ; always ready. Everything is working like clock-
work ; machinery is all in order. Come, give us a tilt, and let
HUNDRED DAYS' BATTLE. 125
us try our metal. You say old Joe has got the brains and you
have got the men ; you are going to flank us out of the Southern
Confederacy. That's your plan, is it ? Well, look out ; we are
going to pick off and decimate your men every day. You will
be a picked chicken before you do that.
What? The Yankees are at Resacca, and have captured
the bridge across the Oostanaula river. Well, now, that's busi-
ness ; that has the old ring in it. Tell it to us again ; we're fond
of hearing such things.
The Yankees are tearing up the railroad track between the
tank and Resacca. Let's hear it again. The Yankees have
opened the attack ; we are going to have a battle ; we are ordered
to strip for the fight. (That is, to take off our knapsacks and
blankets, and to detail Bev. White to guard them. ) Keep closed
up, men. The skirmish line is firing like popping fire-crackers
on a Christmas morning. Every now and then the boom of a
cannon and the screaming of a shell. Ha, ha, ha ! that has the
right ring. We will make Sherman's incendiaries tell another
tale in a few moments, when — "Halt! about face." Well,
what's the matter now ? Simply a flank movement. All right ;
we march back, retake our knapsacks and blankets, and com-
mence to march toward Resacca. Tom Tucker's rooster crows,
and John Branch raises the tune, "Just Twenty Years Ago,''
and after we sing that out, he winds up with, "There Was an
Ancient Individual Whose Cognomen Was Uncle Edward," and
"The old woman who kept a peanut stand,
And a big policeman stood by with a big stick in his hand."
And Arthur Fulghum halloes out, "All right; go ahead! toot,
toot, toot! puff, puff, puff! Tickets, gentlemen, tickets!" and
the Maury Grays raise the yell, "All aboard for Culleoka," while
Walker Coleman commences the song, "I'se gwine to jine the
rebel band, fightin' for my home." Thus we go, marching back
to Resacca.
BATTLE OF RESACCA.
Well, you want to hear about shooting and banging, now,
gentle reader, don't you ? I am sorry 1 cannot interest you on
this subject — see history.
126 CO. H., FIKST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
The Yankees had got breeches hold on us. They were ten
miles in our rear; had cut off our possibility of a retreat. The
wire bridge was in their hands, and they were on the railroad in
our rear; but we were moving, there was no mistake in that.
Our column was firm and strong. There was no excitement, but
wo were moving along as if on review. We passed old Joe and
his staff. He has on a light or mole colored hat, with a black
feather in it, He is listening to the firing going on at the front.
One little cheer, and the very ground seems to shake with cheers.
Old Joe smiles as blandly as a modest maid, raises his hat in
acknowledgement, makes a polite bow, and rides toward the fir-
ing. Soon we are thrown into line of battle, in support of
Polk's corps. We belong to Hardee's corps. Now Polk's corps
advances to the attack, and Hardee's corps fifty or seventy-five
yards in the rear. A thug, thug, thug ; the balls are decimating
our men ; we can't fire ; Polk's corps is in front of us ; should it
give way, then it will be our time. The air is full of deadly
missiles. We can see the two lines meet, and hear the deadly
crash of battle ; can see the blaze of smoke and fire. The earth
trembles. Our little corps rush in to carry off our men as they
are shot down, killed and wounded. Lie down! thug, thug!
General Hardee passes along the line. ''Steady, boys!" (The
old general had on a white cravat; he had been married to a
young wife not more than three weeks). "Go back, general, go
back, go back, go back," is cried all along the line. He passes
through the missiles of death unscathed ; stood all through that
storm of bullets indifferent to their proximity (we were lying
down, you know). The enemy is checked; yonder they fly,
whipped and driven from the field. "Attention ! By the right
Hank, file left, march! Double quick!" and we were double
quicking, we knew not whither, but that always meant fight.
We pass over the hill, and through the valley, and there is old
Joe pointing toward the tank with his sword. (He looked like
ihe pictures you see hung upon the walls). We cross the rail-
road. Halloo! here conies a cavalry charge from the Yankee
line. Now for it ; we will see how Yankee cavalry fight. We
are not supported ; what is the matter ? Are we going to be
HUNDRED DAYS' BATTLE. 127
captured \ They thunder down upon us. Their flat-footed
dragoons shake and jar the earth. They are all around us — we
are surrounded. "Form square! Platoons, right and left
wheel ! Kneel and fire !" There we were in a hollow square.
The Yankees had never seen anything like that before. It was
something new. They charged right upon us. Colonel Field,
sitting on his gray mare, right in the center of the hollow square,
gives the command, ''Front rank, kneel and present bayonet
against cavalry." The front rank knelt down, placing the butts
of their guns against their knees. "Rear rank, fire at will;
commence firing." Now, all this happened in less time than it
has taken me to write it. They charged right upon us, no doubt
expecting to ride right over us, and trample us to death with the
hoofs of their horses. They tried to spur and whip their horses
over us, but the horses had more sense than that. We were
pouring a deadly fire right into their faces, and soon men and
horses were writhing in the death agonies ; officers were yelling
at the top of their voices, "Surrender! surrender!" but we were
having too good a thing of it. We were killing them by scores,
and they could not fire at us ; if they did they either overshot or
missed their aim. Their ranks soon began to break and get con-
fused, and finally they were routed, and broke and ran in all
directions, as fast as their horses could carry them.
When we re-formed our regiment and marched back, we
found that General Johnston's army had all passed over the
bridge at Resacca. Now, reader, this was one of our tight
places. The First Tennessee Regiment was always ordered to
hold tight places, which we always did. We were about the last
troops that passed over.
Now, gentle reader, that is all I know of the battle of Ro-
sacea. We had repulsed every charge, had crossed the bridge
with every wagon, and cannon, and everything, and had nothing
lost or captured. It beat anything that has ever been recorded
in history. I wondered why old Joe did not attack in their
rear. The explanation was that Hood's line was being enfiladed,
his men decimated, and he could not hold his position.
We are still fighting; battles innumerable. The Yankees
128 CO. II., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
had thrown pontoons across the river below Resacca, in hopes to
intercept us on the other side. We were marching on the road ;
they seemed to be marching parallel with us. It was fighting,
fighting, every day. When we awoke in the morning, the firing
of guns was our reveille, and when the sun went down it was our
"retreat and our lights out." Fighting, fighting, fighting, all
day and all night long. Battles were fought every day, and in
one respect we always had the advantage; they were the attack-
ing party, and we always had good breastworks thrown up dur-
ing the night.
Johnston's army was still intact. The soldiers drew their
regular rations of biscuit and bacon, sugar and coffee, whisky
and tobacco. When we went to sleep we felt that old Joe, the
faithful old watch dog, had his eye on the enemy. No one was
disposed to straggle and go back to Company Q. (Company Q
was the name for play-outs). They even felt safer in the regu-
lar line than in the rear with Company Q.
Well, as stated previously, it was battle, battle, battle, every
day, for one hundred days. The boom of cannon, and the rattle
of musketry was our reveille and retreat, and Sherman knew
that it was no child's play.
To-day, April 14, 1882, I say, and honestly say, that I sin-
cerely believe the combined forces of the whole Yankee nation
could never have broken General Joseph E. Johnston's line of
battle, beginning at Rocky Face Ridge, and ending on the banks
of the Chattahoochee.
ADAIRSVILLE OCTAGON HOUSE THE FIRST TENNESSEE ALWAYS
OCCUPIES TIGHT PLACES.
We had stacked our arms and gone into camp, and had
started to build fires to cook supper. I saw our cavalry falling
back, I thought, rather hurriedly. I ran to the road and asked
them what was the matter? They answered, "Matter enough;
yonder are the Yankees, are you infantry fellows going to make
a stand here ?" I told Colonel Field what had been told to me,
and he hooted at the idea ; but balls that had shucks tied to their
tails were passing over, and our regiment was in the rear of the
whole army. I could hardly draw any one's attention to the
HUNDRED DAYS' BATTLE. 129
fact that the cavalry had passed us, and that we were on the out-
post of the whole army, when an order came for our regiment to
go forward as rapidly as possible and occupy an octagon house
in our immediate front. The Yankees were about a hundred
yards from the house on one side and we about a hundred yards
on the other. The race commenced as to which side would get
to the house first. We reached it, and had barely gotten in,
when they were bursting down the paling of the yard on the
opposite side. The house was a fine brick, octagon in shape, and
as perfect a fort as could be desired. We ran to the windows,
up-stairs, down-stairs and in the cellar. The Yankees cheered
and charged, and our boys got happy. Colonel Field told us he
had orders to hold it until every man was killed, and never to
surrender the house. It was a forlorn hope.
We felt we were "gone fawn skins," sure enough. At every
discharge of our guns, we would hear a Yankee squall. The
boys raised a tune —
"I'se gwine to jine the Rebel band,
A fighting for my home" —
as they loaded and shot their guns. Then the tune of —
"Cheer, boys, cheer, we are marching on to battle!
Cheer, boys, cheer, for our sweethearts and our wives!
Cheer, boys, cheer, we'll nobly do our duty,
And give to the South our hearts, our ams, our lives."
,Our cartridges were almost gone, and Lieutenant Joe Car-
ney, Joe Sewell, and Billy Carr volunteered to go and bring a
box of one thousand cartridges. They got out of the back win-
dow, and through that hail of iron and lead, made their way back
with the box of cartridges. Our ammunition being renewed, the
fight raged on. Captain Joe P. Lee touched me on the shoulder
and said, "Sam, please let me have your gun for one shot." He
raised it to his shoulder and pulled down on a fine-dressed cav-
alry officer, and I saw that Yankee tumble. He handed it back
to me to reload. About twelve o'clock, midnight, the Hundred
and Fifty-fourth Tennessee, commanded by Colonel McGevney,
came to our relief.
The firing had ceased, and we abandoned the octagon house.
Our dead and wounded — there were thirtv of them — were in
130 CO. H., FfRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
strange contrast with the furniture of the house. Fine chairs,
sofas, settees, pianos and Brussels carpeting being made the
death-bed of brave and noble boys, all saturated with blood.
Fine lace and damask curtains, all blackened by the smoke of
battle. Fine bureaus and looking-glasses and furniture being
riddled by the rude missiles of war. Beautiful pictures in gilt
frames, and a library of valuable books, all shot and torn by
musket and cannon balls. Such is war.
KENNESAW LINE.
The battles of the Kennesaw line were fought for Aveeks.
Cannonading and musketry firing was one continual thing. It
seemed that shooting was the order of the day, and pickets on
both sides kept up a continual firing, that sounded like ten thou-
sand wood-choppers. Sometimes the wood-choppers would get
lazy or tired and there was a lull. But you could always tell
when the old guard had been relieved, by the accelerated chops
of the wood-choppers.
AM DETAILED TO GO INTO THE ENEMY'S LINES.
One day our orderly sergeant informed me that it was my
regular time to go on duty, and to report to Captain Beasley, of
the Twenty-seventh. I reported to the proper place, and we
were taken to the headquarters of General Leonidas Polk. We
had to go over into the enemy's lines, and make such observa-
tions as we could, and report back by daylight in the morning.
Our instructions were to leave everything in camp except our
guns and cartridge-boxes. These were to be carried, but, under
no circumstances, to be used, except in case of death itself. We
were instructed to fall in in the rear of our relief guard, which
would go out about sunset; not to attract their attention, but to
drop out one or two at a time ; to pass the Yankee picket as best
we could, even if we had to crawl on our bellies to> do so; to go
over in the Yankee lines, and to find out all we could, without
attracting attention, if possible. These were our instructions.
You may be sure my heart beat like a muffled drum when I
heard our orders.
HUNDRED DAYS' BATTLE. 131
I felt like making my will. But, like the boy who was
passing the graveyard, I tried to whistle to keep my spirits up.
We followed the relief guard, and one by one stepped off from
the rear. I was with two others, Arnold Zellner and T. C.
Dornin. We found ourselves between the picket lines of the
two armies. Fortune seemed to favor us. It was just getting
dusky twilight, and we saw the relief guard of the Yankees just
putting on their picket. They seemed to be very mild, inoffen-
sive fellows. They kept a looking over toward the Rebel lines,
and would dodge if a twig cracked under their feet. I walked
on as if I was just relieved, and had passed their lines, when I
turned back, and says I, "Captain, what guard is this ?" He
answered, "ISTien bocht, you bet," is what I understood him to
say. "What regiment are you from?" "Ben bicht mir ein
riefel fab bien." "What regiment is your detail from ?" "let
du niein got Donnermetter stefel switzer." I had to give it up
— I Tiad run across the detail of a Dutch regiment. I passed
on, and came to the regular line of breastworks,' and there was
an old Irishman sitting on a stump grinding coffee. "General
McCook's brigade, be jabbers," he answered to my inquiry as to
what regiment it was. Eight in front of me the line was full
of Irish soldiers, and they were cooking supper. I finally got
over their breastworks, and was fearful I would run into some
camp or headquarter guard, and the countersign would be de-
manded of me. I did not know what to do in that case — but I
thought of the way that I had gotten it hundreds of times before
in our army, when I wanted to slip the guard, and that was to
get a gun, go to some cross street or conspicuous place, halt the
officer, and get the countersign. And while standing near Gen-
eral Sherman's headquarters, I saw a courier come out of his
tent, get on his horse, and ride toward where I stood. As he
approached, says I, "Halt! who goes there?" "A friend with
the countersign." He advanced, and whispered in my ear the
word "United." He rode on. I had gotten their countersign,
and felt I was no longer a prisoner. I went all over their camp,
and saw no demonstration of any kind. aSTight had thrown her
mantle over the encampment. I could plainly see the sentinels
132 CO. H.^ FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
on their weary vigils along the lines, but there was none in their
rear. I met and talked with a great many soldiers, but could
get no information from them.
About 2 o'clock at night, I saw a body of men approaching
where I was. Something told me that I had better get out of
their way, but I did not. The person in command said, "Say,
there! you, sir; say, you, sir!'' Says I, "Are you speaking to
me?" "Yes," very curtly and abruptly. "What regiment do
you belong to?" Says I, "One hundred and twenty-seventh
Illinois." "Well, sir, fall in here; I am ordered to take up all
stragglers. Fall in, fall in promptly!" Says I, "I am in-
structed by General McCook to remain here and direct a courier
to General Williams' headquarters." He says, "It's a strange
place for a courier to come to." His command marched on.
About an hour afterwards — about 3 o'clock — I heard the assem-
bly sound. I knew then that it was about time for me to be
getting out of the way. Soon their companies were forming,
and they were calling the roll everywhere. Everything had
begun to stir. Artillery men were hitching up their horses.
Men were dashing about in every direction. I saw their army
form and move off. I got back into our lines, and reported to
General Polk.
He was killed that very day on the Kennesaw line. Gen-
eral Stephens was killed the very next day.
Every now and then a dead picket was brought in. Times
had begun to look bilious, indeed. Their cannon seemed to be
getting the best of ours in every fight. The cannons of both
armies were belching and bellowing at each other, and the
pickets were going it like wood-choppers, in earnest. We were
entrenched behind strong fortifications. Our rations were
cooked and brought to us regularly, and the spirits of the army
were in good condition.
We continued to change position, and build new breast-
works every night. One-third of the army had to keep awake
in the trenches, while the other two-thirds slept. But every-
thing was so systematized, that we did not feel the fatigue.
HUNDRED DAYS' BATTLE. 133
PINE MOUNTAIN DEATH OF GENERAL LEONIDAS POLK.
General Leonidas Polk, our old leader, whom we had fol-
lowed all through that long war, had gone forward with some
of his staff to the top of Pine Mountain, to reconnoiter, as far
as was practicable, the position of the enemy in our front.
While looking at them with his field glass, a solid shot from the
Federal guns struck him on his left breast, passing through his
body and through his heart, I saw him while the infirmary
corps were bringing him off the field. He was as white as a
piece of marble, and a most remarkable thing about him was,
that not a drop of blood was ever seen to come out of the place
through which the cannon ball had passed. My pen and ability
is inadequate to the task of doing his memory justice. Every
private soldier loved him. Second to Stonewall Jackson, his
loss was the greatest the South ever sustained. When I saw
him there dead, I felt that I had lost a friend whom I had ever
loved and respected, and that the South had lost one of her besl
and greatest generals.
His soldiers always loved and honored him. They called
hi m "Bishop Polk." "Bishop Polk" was ever a favorite with
the army, and when any position was to be held, and it was
known that "Bishop Polk" was there, we knew and felt that
"all was well."
OOLUOTKA CHURCH GENERAL LUCIUS E. POLK WOUNDED.
On this Kennesaw line, near Golgotha Church, one evening
about 4 o'clock, our Confederate line of battle and the Yankee
line came in close proximity. If I mistake not. it was a dark.
drizzly, rainy evening. The cannon balls were ripping and
tearing through the bushes. The two lines were in plain view
of each other. General Pat Cleburne was at this time com-
manding Hardee's corps, and General Lucius E. Polk was in
command of Cleburne's division. General John C. Brown's
division wras supporting Cleburne's division, or, rather, "in
echelon." Every few moments, a raking fire from the Yankee
lines would be poured into our lines, tearing limbs off the trees.
134 CO. II., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
and throwing rocks and dirt in every direction ; but I never saw
a soldier quail, or even dodge. We had confidence in old Joe,
and were ready to march right into the midst of battle at a mo-
ment's notice. While in this position, a bomb, loaded with
shrapnel and grape-shot, came ripping and tearing through our
ranks, wounding General Lucius E. Polk, and killing some of
his staff. And, right here, I deem it not inappropriate to make
a few remarks as to the character and appearance of so brave
and gallant an officer. At this time he was about twenty-five
years old, with long black hair, that curled, a gentle and attract-
ive black eye that seemed to sparkle with love rather than chiv-
alry, and were it not for a young moustache and goatee that he
usually wore, he would have passed for a beautiful girl. In his
manner he was as simple and guileless as a child, and generous
almost to a fault. Enlisting in the First Arkansas Regiment
as a private soldier, and serving for twelve months as orderly
sergeant; at the reorganization he was elected colonel of the
regiment, and afterwards, on account of merit and ability, was
commissioned brigadier-general ; distinguishing himself for con-
spicuous bravery and gallantry on every battlefield, and being
"scalped" by a minnie ball at Richmond, Kentucky — which
scar marks its furrow on top of his head to-day. In every bat-
tle he was engaged in, he led his men to victory, or held the
enemy at bay, while the surge of battle seemd against us ; he
always seemed the successful general, who would snatch victory
out of the very jaws of defeat. In every battle, Polk's brigade,
of Cleburne's division, distinguished itself, almost making the
name of Cleburne as the Stonewall of the West. Polk was to
Cleburne what Murat or the old guard was to Napoleon. And,
at the battle of Chickamauga, when it seemed that the Southern
army had nearly lost the battle, General Lucius E. Polk's
brigade made the most gallant charge of the war, turning the
tide of affairs, and routing the Yankee army. General Polk
himself led the charge in person, and was the first man on top of
the Yankee breastworks (vide General D. H. Hill's report of the
battle of Chickamauga), and in every attack he had the advance
guard, and in every retreat, the rear guard of the army. Why ?
HUNDRED DAYS' BATTLE. 135
Because General Lucius E. Polk and his brave soldiers never
faltered, and with him as leader, the general commanding the
army knew that "all was well."
Well, this evening of which I now write, the litter corps
ran up and placed him on a litter, and were bringing him back
through Company II, of our regiment, when one of the men
was wounded, and I am not sure but another one was killed,
and they let him fall to the ground. At that time, the Yankees
seemed to know that they had killed or wounded a general, and
tore loose their batteries upon this point. The dirt and rocks
Avere flying in every direction, when Captain Joe P. Lee, Jim
Brandon and myself, ran forward, grabbed up the litter, brought
General Polk off the crest of the hill, and assisted in carrying
him to the headquarters of General Cleburne. When we got to
General Cleburne, he came forward and asked General Polk
if he was badly wounded, and General Polk remarked, laugh-
ingly: "Well, I think I will be able to get a furlough now."
This is a fact. General Polk's leg had been shot almost entirely
off. I remember the foot part being twisted clear around, and
lying by his side, while the blood was running through the litter
in a perfect stream. I remember, also, that General Cleburne
clashed a tear from his eye with his hand, and saying, "Poor
fellow," at once galloped to the front, and ordered an immediate
advance of our lines. Cleburne's division was soon engaged
Night coming on, prevented a general engagement, but we drove
the Yankee line two miles.
f<DEAD ANGLE."
The First and Twenty-seventh Tennessee Regiments will
ever remember the battle of "Dead Angle," which was fought
June 27th, on the Kennesaw line, near Marietta, Georgia. It
was one of the hottest and longest days of the year, and one of
the most desperate ami determinedly resisted battles fought dur-
ing the whole war. Our regiment was stationed on an angle, a
little spur of the mountain, or rather promontory of a range of
hills, extending far out beyond the main line of battle, and was
subject to the enfilading fire of forty pieces of artillery of the
136 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
Federal batteries. It seemed fun for the guns of the whole
Yankee army to play upon this point. We would work hard
every night to strengthen our breastworks, and the very next
day they would be torn down smooth with the ground by solid
shots and shells from the guns of the enemy. Even the little
trees and bushes which had been left for shade, were cut down
as so much stubble. For more than a week this constant firing
had been kept up against this salient point. In the meantime,
the skirmishing in the valley below resembled the sounds made
by ten thousand wood-choppers.
Well, on the fatal morning of June 27th, the sun rose clear
and cloudless, the heavens seemed made of brass, and the earth
of iron, and as the sun began to mount toward the zenith,
everything became quiet, and no sound was heard save a pecker-
wood on a neighboring tree, tapping on its old trunk, trying to
find a worm for his dinner. We all knew it was but the dead
calm that precedes the storm. On the distant hills we could
plainly see officers dashing about hither and thither, and the
Stars and Stripes moving to and fro, and we knew the Federals
were making preparations for the mighty contest. We could
hear but the rumbling sound of heavy guns, and the distant
tread of a marching army, as a faint roar of the coming storm,
which was soon to break the ominous silence with the sound of
conflict, such as was scarcely ever before heard on this earth.
1 1 seemed that the arch-angel of Death stood and looked on with
outstretched wings, while all the earth was silent, when all at
once a hundred guns from the Federal line opened upon us, and
for more than an hour they poured their solid and chain shot
grape and shrapnel right upon this salient point, defended by
onr regiment alone, when, all of a sudden, our pickets jumped
into our works and reported the Yankees advancing, and almost
at the same time a solid line of blue coats came up the hill. I
discharged my gun, and happening to look up, there was the
beautiful flag of the Stars and Stripes flaunting right in my
face, and T heard John Branch, of the Rock City Guards, com-
manded by Captain W. D. Kelly, who were next Company H,
say, ''Look at that Yankee flag; shoot that fellow; snatch that
HUNDRED DAYS' BATTLE. 137
flag out of his hand !" My pen is unable to describe the scene
of carnage and death that ensued in the next two hours. Col-
umn after column of Federal soldiers were crowded upon that
line, and by referring to the history of the war you will find
they Avere massed in column forty columns deep ; in fact, the
whole force of the Yankee army was hurled against this point,
but, no sooner would a regiment mount our works than they
were shot down or surrendered, and soon we had every "gopher
hole" full of Yankee prisoners. Yet still the Yankees came.
It seemed impossible to check the onslaught, but every man was
true to his trust, and seemed to think that at that moment the
whole responsibility of the Confederate government was rested
upon his shoulders. Talk about other battles, victories, shouts,
cheers, and triumphs, but in comparison with this day's fight,
all others dwarf into insignificance. The sun beaming down
on our uncovered heads, the thermometer being one hundred and
ten degrees in the shade, and a solid line of blazing fire right
from the muzzles of the Yankee guns being poured right into
our very faces, singeing our hair and clothes, the hot blood of
our dead and wounded spurting on us, the blinding smoke and
stifling atmosphere filling our eyes and mouths, and the awful
concussion causing the blood to gush out of our noses and ears,
and above all, the roar of battle, made it a perfect pandemonium.
Afterward I heard a soldier express himself by saying that he
thought "Hell had broke loose in Georgia, sure enough."
I have heard men say that if they ever killed a Yankee
during the war they were not aware of it. I am satisfied that
on this memorable day, every man in our regiment killed from
one score to four score, yea, five score men. I mean from
twenty to one hundred each. All that was necessary was to
load and shoot. In fact, I will ever think that the reason they
did not capture our works was the impossibility of their living
nun passing over the bodies of their dead. The ground was
piled up with one solid mass of dead and wounded Yankees. I
learned afterwards from the burying squad that in some places
they were piled up like cord wood, twelve deep.
After they were time and time again beaten back, they at
last were enabled to fortifv a line under the crest of the hill,
138 CO. H., FIEST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
only thirty yards from us, and they immediately commenced to
excavate the earth with the purpose of blowing up our line.
We remained here three days after the battle. In the
meantime the woods had taken fire, and during the nights and
days of all that time continued to burn, and at all times, every
hour of day and night, you could hear the shrieks and screams
of the poor fellows who were left on the field, and a stench, so
sickening as to nauseate the whole of both armies, arose from
the decaying bodies of the dead left lying on the field.
On the third morning the Yankees raised a white flag, ask-
ing an armistice to bury their dead, not for any respect either
army had for the dead, but to get rid of the sickening stench.
I get sick now when I happen to think about it. Long and deep
trenches were dug, and hooks made from bayonets crooked for
the purpose, and all the dead were dragged and thrown pell
mell into these trenches. Nothing was allowed to be taken off
the dead, and finely dressed officers, with gold watch chains
dangling over their vests, were thrown into the ditches. Dur-
ing the whole day both armies were hard at work, burying the
Federal dead.
Every member of the First and Twenty-seventh Tennessee
Regiments deserves a wreath of imperishable fame, and a warm
place in the hearts of their countrymen, for their gallant and
heroic valor at the battle of Dead Anffle. No man distinguished
himself above another. All did their duty, and the glory of
one is but the glory and just tribute of the others.
After we had abandoned the line, and on coming to a little
stream of water, I undressed for the purpose of bathing, and
after undressing found my arm all battered and bruised and
bloodshot from my wrist to my shoulder, and as sore as a blister.
I had shot one hundred and twenty times that day. My gun
became so hot that frequently the powder would flash before I
could ram home the ball, and I had frequently to exchange my
gun for that of a dead comrade.
Colonel H. R. Field was loading and shooting the same as
any private in the ranks when he fell off the skid from which he
was shooting right over inv shoulder, shot through the head. I
HUNDRED DAYS' BATTLE. 139
laid him down in the trench, and he said, "Well, they have got
me at last, but I have killed fifteen of them ; time about is fair
play, I reckon." But Colonel Field was not killed — only
wounded, and one side paralyzed. Captain Joe P. Lee, Cap-
tain Mack Campbell, Lieutenant T. H. Maney, and other offi-
cers of the regiment, threw rocks and beat them in their faces
with sticks. The Yankees did the same. The rocks came in
upon us like a perfect hail storm, and the Yankees seemed very
obstinate, and in no hurry to get away from our front, and we
had to keep up the firing and shooting them down in self-
defense. They seemed to walk up and take death as coolly as
if they were automatic or wooden men, and our boys did not
shoot for the fun of the thing. It was, verily, a life and death
grapple, and the least flicker on our part, would have been sure
death to all. We could not be reinforced on account of our
position, and we had to stand up to the rack, fodder or no fod-
der. When the Yankees fell back, and the firing ceased, I never
saw so many broken down and exhausted men in my life. T
was as sick as a horse, and as wet with blood and sweat as T
could be, and many of our men were vomiting with excessive
fatigue, over-exhaustion, and sunstroke; our tongues were
parched and cracked for water, and our faces blackened with
powder and smoke, and our dead and wounded were piled indis-
criminately in the trenches. There was not a single man in
the company who was not wounded, or had holes shot through
his hat and clothing. Captain Beasley was killed, and nearly
all his company killed and wounded. The Rock City Guards
were almost piled in heaps and so was our company. Captain
Joe P. Lee was badly wounded. Poor Walter Hood and Jim
Brandon were lying there among us, while their spirits were in
heaven; also, William A. Hughes, my old mess-mate and friend,
who had clerked with me for S. F. & J. M. Mayes, and who had
slept with me for lo! these many years, and a boy who loved me
more than any other person on earth has ever done. I had just
discharged the contents of my gun into the bosoms of two men,
one right behind the other, killing them both, and was re-load-
ing, when a Yankee rushed upon me, having me at a disadvan-
140 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
tage, and said, "You have killed my two brothers, and now I've
got you." Everything I had ever done rushed through my
mind. I heard the roar, and felt the flash of fire, and saw my
more than friend, William A. Hughes, grab the muzzle of the
gun, receiving the whole contents in his hand and arm, and
mortally wounding him. Reader, he died for me. In saving
my life, he lost his own. When the infimary corps carried him
off, all mutilated and bleeding he told them to give me "Flor-
ence Fleming" (that was the name of his gun, which he had put
on it in silver letters), and to give me his blanket and clothing.
He gave his life for me, and everything that he had. It was
the last time that I ever saw him, but I know that away up
yonder, beyond the clouds, blackness, tempest and night, and
away above the blue vault of heaven, where the stars keep their
ceaseless vigils, away up yonder in the golden city of the jSTew
Jerusalem, where God and Jesus Christ, our Savior, ever reign,
we will sometime meet at the marriage supper of the Son of
God, who gave His life for the redemption of the whole world.
For several nights they made attacks upon our lines, but
in every attempt, they were driven back with great slaughter.
They would ignite the tape of bomb shells, and throw them over
in our lines, but, if the shell did not immediately explode, they
were thrown back. They had a little shell called hand grenade,
but they would either stop short of us, or go over our heads, and
were harmless. General Joseph E. Johnston sent us a couple
of cite vaux-de-f rise. When they came, a detail of three men
had to roll them over the works. Those three men were heroes.
Their names were Edmund Brandon, T. C. Dornin, and Arnold
Zellner. Although it was a solemn occasion, every one of us
w;h convulsed with laughter at the ridiculous appearance and
actions of the detail. Every one of them made their wills and
said their prayers truthfully and honestly, before they under-
took the task. I laugh now every time I think of the ridiculous
appearance of the detail, but to them it was no laughing matter.
I will say that they were men who feared not, nor faltered in
their duty. They were men, and to-day deserve the thanks of
the people of the South. That night about midnight, an alarm
HUNDRED DAYS' BATTLE. 141
was given that the Yankees were advancing. They would only
have to run about twenty yards before they would be in our
works. We were ordered to "shoot." Every man was halloo-
ing at the top of his voice, "Shoot, shoot, tee, shoot, shootee."
On the alarm, both the Confederate and Federal lines opened
with both small arms and artillery, and it seemed that the very
heavens and earth were in a grand conflagration, as they will
be at the final judgment, after the resurrection. I have since
learned that this was a false alarm, and that no attack had been
meditated.
Previous to the day of attack, the soldiers had cut down
all the trees in our immediate front, throwing the tops down
hill and sharpening the limbs of the same, thus making, as we
thought, an impenetrable abattis of vines and limbs locked to-
gether ; but nothing stopped or could stop the advance of the
Yankee line, but the hot shot and cold steel that we poured into
their faces from under our head-logs.
One of the most shameful and cowardly acts of Yankee
treachery was committed there that I ever remember to have
seen. A Avounded Yankee was lying right outside of our works,
and begging most piteously for water, when a member of the
railroad company (his name was Hog Johnson, and the very
man who stood videt with Theodore Sloan and I at the battle of
Missionary Ridge, and who killed the three Yankees, one night,
from Fort Horsley), got a canteen of water, and gave the dying
Yankee a drink, and as he started back, he was killed dead in
his tracks by a treacherous Yankee hid behind a tree. It mat-
ters not, for somewhere in God's Holy Word, which cannot lie.
He says that "He that giveth a cup of cold water in my name,
shall not lose his reward." And I have no doubt, reader, in my
own mind, that the poor fellow is reaping his reward in Eman-
uel's land with the good and just. In every instance where we
tried to assist their wounded, our men were killed or wounded.
A poor wounded and dying boy, not more than sixteen years of
age, asked permission to crawl over our works, and when he had
crawled to the top, and just as Blair Webster and I reached up
to help the poor fellow, he, the Yankee, was killed by his own
142 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
men. In fact, I have ever thought that is why the slaughter
was so great in our front, that nearly, if not as many, Yankees
were killed by their own men as by us. The brave ones, who
tried to storm and carry our works, were simply between two
tires. It is a singular fanaticism, and curious fact, that enters
the mind of a soldier, that it. is a grand and glorious death to
die on a victorious battlefield. One morning the Sixth and
Ninth Regiments came to our assistance — not to relieve us —
but only to assist us, and every member of our regiment — First
and Twenty-seventh — got as mad as a "wet hen." They felt
almost insulted, and I believe we would soon have been in a
free fight, had they not been ordered back. As soon as they
came up every one of us began to say, "Go back ! go back ! we
can hold this place, and by the eternal God we are not going to
leave it." General Johnston came there to look at the position,
and told us that a transverse line was about one hundred yards
in our rear, and should they come on us too heavy to fall back
to that line, when almost every one of us said, "You go back and
look at other lines, this place is safe, and can never be taken."
And then when they had dug a tunnel under us to blow us up,
we laughed, yea, even rejoiced, at the fact of soon being blown
sky high. Yet, not a single man was willing to leave his post.
When old Joe sent us the two chevaux-de-frise, and kept on
sending us water, and rations, and whisky, and tobacco, and
word to hold our line, we would invariably send word back to
rest easy, and that all is well at Dead Angle. I have ever
thought that is one reason why General Johnston fell back from
this Kennesaw line, and I will say to-day, in 1882, that while
we appreciated his sympathies and kindness toward us, yet Ave
did not think hard of old Joe for having so little confidence in us
at that time. A perfect hail of minnie balls was being contin-
ually poured into our head-logs the whole time we remained
here. The Yankees would hold up small looking-glasses, so that
our strength and breastworks could be seen in the reflection in
i lie ^lass; and they also had small mirrors on the butts of their
guns, so arranged that they could hight up the barrels of their
guns by looking through these glasses, while they themselves
HUNDRED DAYS' BATTLE. 143
would not be exposed to our fire, and they kept up this continual
firing day and night, whether they could see us or not. Some-
times a glancing shot from our head-logs would wound some one.
But I cannot describe it as I would wish. I would be
pleased to mention the name of every soldier, not only of Com-
pany H alone, but every man in the First and Twenty-seventh
Tennessee Consolidated Regiments on this occasion, but I cannot
now remember their names, and will not mention any one in
particular, fearing to do injustice to some whom I might inad-
vertently omit. Every man and every company did their duty.
Company G, commanded by Captain Mack Campbell, stood side
by side with us on this occasion, as they ever had during the
whole war. But soldiers of the First and Twenty-seventh Regi-
ments, it is with a feeling of pride and satisfaction to me, to-day,
that I was associated with so many noble and brave men, and
who were subsequently complimented by Jeff Davis, then Presi-
dent of the Confederate States of America, in person, who said,
"That every member of our regiment was fit to be a captain" —
his very words. I mention Captain W. C. Flournoy, of Com-
pany K, the Martin Guards ; Captain Ledbetter, of the Ruther-
ford Rifles ; Captains Kelly and Steele, of the Rock City Guards,
and Captain Adkisson, of the Williamson Grays, and Captain
Fulcher, and other names of brave and heroic men, some of
whom live to-day, but many have crossed the dark river and are
"resting under the shade of the trees" on the other shore, wait-
ing and Avatching for us, who are left to do justice to their
memory and our cause, and when we old Rebels have accom-
plished God's purpose on earth, we, too, will be called to give an
account of our battles, struggles, and triumphs.
Reader mine, I fear that I have wearied you with too long
a description of the battle of "Dead Angle," if so, please pardon
me, as this is but a sample of the others which will now follow
each other in rapid succession. And, furthermore, in stating
the above facts, the half has not been told, but it will give you a
faint idea of the hard battles and privations and hardships of
the soldiers in that stormy epoch — who died, grandly, glorious-
ly, nobly : dyeing the soil of old mother earth, and enriching the
144 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
same with their crimson life's blood, while doing what ? Only
trying to protect their homes and families, their property, their
constitution and their laws, that had been guaranteed to them
as a heritage forever by their forefathers. They died for the
faith that each state Avas a separate sovereign government, as laid
down by the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution
of our fathers.
BATTLE OF NEW HOPE CHURCH.
We were on a forced march along a dusty road. I never
in my whole life saw more dust. The dust fairly popped undei
our feet, like tramping in a snow-drift, and our eyes, and noses,
and mouths, were filled with the dust that arose from our foot-
steps, and to make matters worse, the boys all tried to kick up a
"bigger dust." Cavalry and artillery could not be seen at ten
paces, being perfectly enveloped in dust. It was a perfect fog
of dust. We were marching along, it then being nearly dark,
when we heard the hoarse boom of a cannon in our rear. It
sounded as if it had a bad attack of croup. It went, "Croup,
croup, croup." The order was given to "about face, double
quick, march." We double quicked back to the old church on
the road side, when the First Tennessee Cavalry, commanded
by Colonel Lewis, and the Ninth Battalion, commanded by
Major James H. Akin, passed us, and charged the advance of
the Federal forces. We were supporting the cavalry. We
heard them open. Deadly missiles were flying in every direc-
tion. The peculiar thud of spent balls and balls with shucks
tied to their tails were passing over our heads. We were ex-
pecting that the cavalry would soon break, and that we would be
ordered into action. But the news came from the front, that
the cavalry were not only holding their position, but were driv-
ing the enemy. The earth jarred and trembled ; the fire fiend
seemed unchained ; wounded men were coming from the front.
I asked the litter corps, "Who have you there ?" And one an-
swered, "Captain Asa G. Freeman." I asked if he was dan-
gerously wounded, and he simply said, "Shot through both
thighs," and passed on. About this time we heard the whoops
HUNDRED DAYS' BATTLE. 145
and cheers of the cavalry, and knew that the Yankees were
whipped and falling back. We marched forward and occupied
the place held by the cavalry. The trees looked as if they had
been cut down for new ground, being mutilated and shivered
by musket and cannon balls. Horses were writing in their death
agony, and the sickening odor of battle filled the air. Well
well, those who go to battle may expect to die. An halo ever
surrounds the soldier's life, because he is ever willing to die for
his country.
BATTLE OF DALLAS BRECKINRIDGE CHARGES THE HEIGHTS.
We are ordered to march to Dallas.
Reader, somehow the name and character of General John
C. Breckinridge charms me. That morning he looked grand
and glorious. His infantry, artillery, and cavalry were drawn
up in line of battle in our immediate front. He passed along
the line, and stopping about the center of the column, said,
''Soldiers, we have been selected to go forward and capture yon
heights. Do you think we can take them? I will lead the at-
tack." The men whooped, and the cry, "We can, we can," was
heard form one end of the line to the other. Then, "Forward,
guide center, march !" were words re-repeated by colonels and
captains. They debouched through the woods, and passed out of
sight in a little ravine, when we saw them emerge in an open
field and advance right upon the Federal breastworks. It was
the grandest spectacle I ever Avitnessed. We could see the smoke
and dust of battle, and hear the shout of the charge, and the roai
and rattle of cannon and musketry. But Breckinridge's division
continued to press forward, without wavering or hesitating.
We can see the line of dead and wounded along the track over
which he passed, and finally we see our battle flag planted upon
the Federal breastworks. I cannot describe the scene. If you,
reader, are an old soldier, you can appreciate my failure to give
a pen picture of battle. But Breckinridge could not long hold
his position. Why we were not ordered forward to follow up
his success, I do not know; but remember, reader, I am not
writing history. I try only to describe events as I witnessed
them.
146 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
We marched back to the old church on the roadside, called
Xew Hope church, and fortified, occupying the battlefield of the
day before. The stench and sickening odor of dead men and
horses were terrible. We had to breathe the putrid atmosphere.
The next day, Colonel W. M. Voorhies' Forty-eighth Ten-
nessee Regiment took position on our right. Now, here were
all the Maury county boys got together at New Hope church.
1 ate dinner with Captain Joe Love, and Frank Frierson filled
my haversack with hardtack and bacon.
BATTLE OF ZION CHURCH, JULY 4TH, 1864.
The 4th day of July, twelve months before, Pemberton had
surrendered twenty-five thousand soldiers, two hundred pieces
of artillery, and other munitions of war in proportion, at Vicks-
burg. The Yankees wanted to celebrate the day. They thought
it was their lucky day ; but old Joe thought he had as much right
to celebrate the Sabbath day of American Independence as the
Yankees had, and we celebrated it. About dawn, continued
boom of cannon reverberated over the hills as if firing a Fourth
of July salute. I was standing on top of our works, leveling
them off with a spade. A sharpshooter fired at me, but the ball
missed me and shot William A. Graham through the heart. He
was as noble and brave a soldier as ever drew the breath of life,
and lacked but a few votes of being elected captain of Company
H, at the re-organization. He was smoking his pipe when he
was shot. We started to carry him to the rear, but he remarked
"Boys, it is useless; please lay me down and let me die." I
have never in my life seen any one meet death more philosoph-
ically. He was dead in a moment. General A. J. Vaughan,
commanding General Preston Smith's brigade, had his foot shot
off by a cannon ball a few minutes afterwards.
It seemed that both Confederate and Federal armies were
celebrating the Fourth of July. I cannot now remember a more
severe artillery duel. Two hundred cannon were roaring and
belching like blue blazes. It was but a battle of cannonade all
day long. It seemed as though the Confederate and Federal
cannons were talking to each other. Sometimes a ball passing
HUNDRED DAYS' BATTLE. 147
over would seem to be mad, then again some would seem to be
laughing, some would be mild, some sad, same gay, some sorrow-
ful, some rollicking and jolly; and then again some would
scream like the ghosts of the dead. In fact, they gave forth
every kind of sound that you could imagine. It reminded one
of when two storms meet in mid ocean — the mountain billows of
waters coming from two directions, lash against the vessel's side,
while the elements are tilled with roaring, thundering and light-
ning. You could almost feel the earth roll and rock like a
drunken man, or a ship, when she rides the billows in an awful
storm. It seemed that the earth was frequently moved from its
foundations, and you could hear it grate as it moved. But all
through that storm of battle, every soldier stood firm, for we
knew that old Joe was at the helm.
KINGSTON.
Here General Johnston issued his first battle order, that
thus far he had gone and intended to go no further. His line
of battle was formed ; his skirmish line was engaged ; the artil-
lery was booming from the Rebel lines. Both sides were now
face to face. There were no earthworks on either side. It was
to be an open field and a fair fight, when — "Fall back !" What's
the matter ? I do not know how we got the news, but here is
what is told us — and so it was, every position we ever took.
When we fell back the news would be, "Hood's line is being
enfiladed, and they are decimating his men, and he can't hold
his position." But we fell back and took a position at
CASSVILLE.
Our line of battle was formed at Cassville. I never saw
our troops happier or more certain of success. A sort of grand
halo illumined every soldier's face. You could see self-confi-
dence in the features of every private soldier. We were confi-
dent of victory and success. It was like going to a frolic or a
wedding. Joy was welling up in every heart. We were going
to whip and rout the Yankees. It seemed to be anything else
148 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
than a fight. The soldiers were jubilant. Gladness was de-
picted on every countenance. I honestly believe that had a
battle been fought at this place, every soldier would have dis-
tinguished himself. I believe a sort of fanaticism had entered
their souls, that whoever was killed would at once be carried to
the seventh heaven. I am sure of one thing, that every soldier
had faith enough in old Joe to have charged Sherman's whole
army. When "Halt!" "Retreat!" What is the matter? Gen-
eral Hood says they are enfilading his line, and are decimating
his men, and he can't hold his position.
The same old story repeats itself. Old Joe's army is ever
face to face with Sherman's incendiaries. We have faith in old
Joe's ability to meet Sherman whenever he dares to attack. The
soldiers draw their regular rations. Every time a blue coat
comes in sight, there is a dead Yankee to bury. Sherman is
getting cautious, his army hacked. Thus we continue to fall
back for four months, day by day, for one hundred and ten days,
fighting every day and night.
ON THE BANKS OF THE CHATTAHOOCHEE.
Our army had crossed the Chattahoochee. The Federal
army was on the other side; our pickets on the south side, the
Yankees on the north side. By a tacit agreement, as had ever
been the custom, there was no firing across the stream. That
was considered the boundary. It mattered not how large or
small the stream, pickets rarely fired at each other. We would
stand on each bank, and laugh and talk and brag across the
stream.
One day, while standing on the banks of the Chattahoochee.
a Yankee called out :
"Johnny, O, Johnny, O, Johnny Reb."
Johnny answered, "What do you want ?"
"You are whipped, aren't you ?"
"No. The man who says that is a liar, a scoundrel, and a
coward."
"Well, anyhow, Joe Johnston is relieved of the command."
"What?"'
HUNDRED DAYS' BATTLE. 149
"General Joseph E. Johnston is relieved."
"What is that von say ?"
"General Joseph E. Johnston is relieved, and Hood ap-
pointed in his place."
"You are a liar, and if you will come out and show your-
self I will shoot you down in your tracks, you lying Yankee
galloot."
"That's more than I will stand. If the others will hands
off, I will fight a duel with you. Now, show your manhood."
Well, reader, every word of this is true, as is everything in
this book. Both men loaded their guns and stepped out to their
places. They were both to load and fire at will, until one or
both were killed. They took their positions without either try-
ing to get the advantage of the other. Then some one gave the
command to "Fire at will ; commence firing." They fired seven
shots each ; at the seventh shot, poor Johnny Reb fell a corpse,
pierced through the heart.
REMOVAL OF GENERAL JOSEPH E. JOHNSTON.
Such was the fact. General Joseph E. Johnston had been
removed, and General J. B. Hood appointed to take command.
Generals Hardee and Kirby Smith, two old veterans, who had
been identified with the Army of Tennessee from the beginning,
resigned. We had received the intelligence from the Yankees.
The relief guard confirmed the report.
All the way from Rocky Face Ridge to Atlanta was a battle
of a hundred days, yet Hood's line was all the time enfiladed
and his men decimated, and he could not hold his position. Old
Joe Johnston had taken command of the Army of Tennessee
when it was crushed and broken, at a time when no other man on
earth could have united it. He found it in rags and tatters,
hungry and heart-broken, the morale of the men gone, their
manhood vanished to the winds, their pride a thing of the past.
Through his instrumentality and skillful manipulation, all these
had been restored. We had been under his command nearly
twelve months. He was more popular with his troops day by
day. We had made a long and arduous campaign, lasting four
150 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
months ; there was not a single day in that four months that did
not find us engaged in battle with the enemy. History does
not record a single instance of where one of his lines was ever
broken — not a single rout. He had not lost a single piece of
artillery ; he had dealt the enemy heavy blows ; he was whipping
them day by day, yet keeping his own men intact ; his men were
in as good spirits and as sure of victory at the end of four months
as they were at the beginning; instead of the army being de-
pleted, it had grown in strength. 'Tis true, he had fallen back,
but it was to give his enemy the heavier blows. He brought all
the powers of his army into play ; ever on the defensive, 'tis
true, yet ever striking his enemy in his most vulnerable part.
His face was always to the foe. They could make no movement
in which they were not anticipated. Such a man was Joseph
E. Johnston, and such his record. Farewell, old fellow! We
privates loved you because you made us love ourselves. Hardee,
our old corps commander, whom we had followed for nearly
four years, and whom we had loved and respected from the be-
ginning, has left us. Kirby Smith has resigned and gone home.
The spirit of our good and honored Leonidas Polk is in heaven,
and his body lies yonder on the Kennesaw line. General
Breckenridge and other generals resigned. I lay down my pen ;
I can write no more ; my heart is too full. Reader, this is the
saddest chapter I ever wrote.
But now, after twenty years, I can see where General
Joseph E. Johnston made many blunders in not attacking Sher-
man's line at some point. He was better on the defensive than
the aggressive, and hence, bis peccare in hello non licet.
GENERAL HOOD TAKES COMMAND.
It came like a flash of lightning, staggering and blinding
every one. It was like applying a lighted match to an immense
magazine. It was like the successful gambler, flushed with con-
tinual winnings, who staked his all and lost. It was like the end
of the Southern Confederacy. Things that were, were not. It
was the end. The soldier of the relief guard who brought us
the news while picketing on the banks of the Chattahoochee,
remarked, by way of imparting gently the information —
HUNDRED DAYS' BATTLE. 151
"Boys, we've fought all the war for nothing. There is
nothing for us in store now."
"What's the matter now ?"
"General Joe Johnston is relieved, Generals Hardee and
Kirby Smith has resigned, and General Hood is appointed to
take command of the Army of Tennessee."
"My God! is that so?"
"It is certainly a fact."
"Then I'll never fire another gun. Any news or letters
that you wish carried home? I've quit, and am going home.
Please tender my resignation to Jeff Davis as a private soldier
in the C. S. Army."
Five men of that picket — there were just five — as rapidly
as they could, took off their cartridge-boxes, after throwing down
their guns, and then their canteens and haversacks, taking out
of their pockets their gun-wipers, wrench and gun-stoppers, and
saying they would have no more use for "them things." They
marched off, and it was the last we ever saw of them. In ten
minutes they were across the river, and no doubt had taken the
oath of allegiance to the United States government. Such was
the sentiment of the Army of Tennessee at that time.
152 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
CHAPTER XIII.— ATLANTA.
HOOD STRIKES.
General John B. Hood had the reputation of being a fight-
ing man, and wishing to show Jeff Davis what a "bully" fighter
he was, lights in on the Yankees on Peachtree creek. But that
was "I give a dare" affair. General William B. Bate's division
gained their works, but did not long hold them.
Our division, now commanded by General John C. Brown,
was supporting Bate's division; our regiment supporting the
Hundred and Fifty-fourth Tennessee, which was pretty badly
cut to pieces, and I remember how mad they seemed to be,
because they had to fall back.
Hood thought he would strike while the iron was hot, and
while it could be hammered into shape, and make the Yankees
believe that it was the powerful arm of old Joe that was wielding
the sledge.
But he was like the fellow who took a piece of iron to the
shop, intending to make him an ax. After working for some
time and failing, he concluded he would make him a wedge, and,
failing in this, said, "I'll make a skeow." So he heats the iron
red-hot and drops it into the slack-tub, and it went s-k-e-o-w, bub-
ble, bubble, s-k-e-o-w, bust.
KILLING A YANKEE SCOUT.
On the night of the 20th, the Yankees were on Peachtree
creek, advancing toward Atlanta. I was a videt that night, on
the outpost of the army. I could plainly hear the moving of
their army, even the talking and laughing of the Federal sol-
diers. I was standing in an old sedge field. About midnight
everything quieted down. I was alone in the darkness, left to
watch while the army slept. The pale moon was on the wane,
;i little yellow arc, emitting but a dim light, and the clouds were
ATLANTA. 153
lazily passing over it, while the stars seemed trying to wink and
sparkle and make night beautiful. I thought of God, of heaven,
of home, and I thought of Jennie — her whom I had ever loved,
and who had given me her troth in all of her maiden purity, to
be my darling bride so soon as the war was over. I thought of
the scenes of my childhood, my school-boy days. I thought of
the time when I left peace and home, for war and privations.
I had Jennie's picture in my pocket Bible, alongside of a braid
of her beautiful hair. And I thought of how good, how pure,
and how beautiful was the woman, who, if I lived, would share
my hopes and struggles, my happiness as well as troubles, and
who would be my darling bride, and happiness would ever be
mine. An owl had lit on an old tree near me and began to "hoo,
hoo, hoo are you," and his mate would answer back from the
lugubrious depths of the Chattahoochee swamps. A shivering
owl also sat on the limb of a tree and kept up its dismal wailings.
And ever now and then I could hear the tingle, tingle, tingle of
a cow bell in the distance, and the shrill cry of the whip-poor-
will. The shivering owl and whip-poor-will seemed to be in a
sort of talk, and the jack-o'-lanterns seemed to be playing spirits
— when, hush ! what is that % listen ! It might have been two
o'clock, and I saw, or thought I saw, the dim outlines of a Yan-
kee soldier, lying on the ground not more than ten steps from
where I stood. I tried to imagine it was a stump or hallucina-
tion of the imagination. I looked at it again. The more I
looked the more it assumed the outlines of a man. Something
glistens in his eyes. Am I mistaken? Tut, tut, it's nothing
but a stump ; you are getting demoralized. What ! it seems to
be getting closer. There are two tiny specks that shine like the
eves of a cat in the dark. Look here, thought I, you are getting
nervous. Well, I can stand this doubt and agony no longer; 1
am going to fire at that object anyhow, let come what will. I
raised my gun, placed it to my shoulder, took deliberate aim,
and fired, and waugh-weouw, the most unearthly scream I ever
heard, greeted my ears. I broke and run to a tree near by, and
had just squatted behind it, when zip, zip, two balls from our
picket post struck the tree in two inches of my head. I hallooed
154 CO. H., FIKST TENNESSEE KEGIMENT.
to our picket not to fire that it was "me," the videt. I went
back, and says I, "Who fired those two shots ?" Two fellows
spoke up and said that they did it. Xo sooner was it spoken,
than I was on them like a duck on a june-bug, pugnis et calcibus.
We "fout and fit, and gouged and bit," right there in that picket
post. I have the marks on my face and forehead where one of
them struck me with a Yankee zinc canteen, filled with water.
I do not know which whipped. My friends told me that I
whipped both of thenx, and I suppose their friends told them
that they had whipped me. All I know is, they both run, and T
Avas bloody from head to foot, from where I had been cut in the
forehead and face by the canteens. This all happened one dark
night in the month of July, 1864, in the rifle pit in front of
Atlanta. When day broke the next morning, I went forward
to where I had shot at the "boogaboo" of the night before, and
right there I found a dead Yankee soldier, fully accoutered for
any emergency, his eyes wide open. I looked at him, and I said,
"Old fellow, I am sorry for you; didn't know it was you, or I
would have been worse scared than I was. You are dressed
mighty fine, old fellow, but I don't want anything you have got,
but your haversack." It was a nice haversack, made of chamois
skin. I kept it until the end of the war, and when we surren-
dered at Greensboro, IS. C, I had it on. But the other soldiers
who were with me, went through him and found twelve dollars
in greenback, a piece of tobacco, a gun-wiper and gun-stopper
and wrench, a looking-glass and pocket-comb, and various and
sundry other articles. I came across that dead Yankee two days
afterwards, and he was as naked as the day he came into the
world, and was as black as a negro, and was as big as a skinned
horse. He had mortified. I recollect of saying, "Ugh, ugh,"
and of my hat being lifted off my head, by my hair, which stood
up like the quills of the fretful porcupine. He scared me worse
when dead than when living.
AN OLD CITIZEN.
But after the little unpleasant episode in the rifle pit, I
went back and took my stand. When nearly day, I saw the
ATLANTA. 155
bright and beautiful star in the east rise above the tree tops? and
the gray fog from off the river begun to rise, and every now and
then could hear a far off chicken crow.
While I was looking toward the Yankee line, I saw a man
riding leisurely along on horseback, and singing a sort of hum-
drum tune. I took him to be some old citizen. He rode on
down the road toward me, and when he had approached, "Who
goes there ?" He immediately answered, "A friend." I
thought that I recognized the voice in the darkness — and said I,
"Who are you ?" He spoke up, and gave me his name. Then,
said I, "Advance, friend, but you are my prisoner." He rode
on toward me, and I soon saw that it was Mr. Mumford Smith,
the old sheriff of Maury county. I was very glad to see him,
and as soon as the relief guard came, I went back to camp with
him. I do not remember of ever in my life being more glad t<>
see any person. He had brought a letter from home, from my
father, and some Confederate old issue bonds, which I was
mighty glad to get, and also a letter from "the gal I left behind
me," enclosing a rosebud and two apple blossoms, resting on an
arbor vitae leaf, and this on a little piece of white paper, and on
this was written a motto (which I will have to tell for the young
folks), "Receive me, such as I am; would that I were of more
use for your sake. Jennie." Now, that was the bouquet part.
I would not like to tell you what was in that letter, but. I read
that letter over five hundred times, and remember it to-day. I
think I can repeat, the poetry verbatim et literatim, and will do
so, gentle reader, if you don't laugh at me. I'm married now,
and only write from memory, and never in my life have I read it
in book or paper, and only in that letter —
"I love you, O. how dearly.
Words too faintly but express;
This heart beats too sincerely,
E'er in life to love you less;
No, my fancy never ranges,
Hopes like mine, can never soar:
If the love I cherish, changes,
'Twill only be to love you more."
Now, fair and gentle reader, this was the poetry, and you
see for yourself that there was no "shenanigan" in that letter ;
and if a fellow "went back" on that sort of a letter, he would
156 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
strike his "mammy." And then the letter wound up with.
"May God shield and protect you, and prepare you for what-
ever is in store for you, is the sincere prayer of Jennie." Yon
may be sure that I felt good and happy, indeed.
MY FRIENDS.
Reader mine, in writing these rapid and imperfect recol-
lections, I find that should I attempt to write up all the details
that I would not only weary you, but that these memoirs would
soon become monotonous and uninteresting. I have written
only of what I saw. Many little acts of kindness shown me by
ladies and old citizens, I have omitted. I remember going to
an old citizen's house, and he and the old lady were making clay
pipes. I recollect how they would mold the pipes and put them
in a red-hot stove to burn hard. Their kindness to me will nevei
be forgotten. The first time that I went there they seemed very
glad to see me, and told me that I looked exactly like their son
who was in the army. I asked them what regiment he belonged
to. After a moment's silence the old lady, her voice trembling
as she spoke, said the Fourteenth Georgia, and then she began
to cry. Then the old man said, "Yes, we have a son in the
army. He went to Virginia the first year of the war, and wc
have never heard of him since. These wars are terrible, sir.
The last time that we heard of him, he went with Stonewall
.lackson away up in the mountains of West Virginia, toward
Romney, and I did hear that while standing picket at a little
place called Hampshire Crossing, on a little stream called St.
John's Run, he and eleven others froze to death. We have
never heard of him since." He got up and began walking up
and down the room, his hands crossed behind his back. I
bnckled on my knapsack to go back to camp, and I shook hands
with the two good old people, and they told me good-bye, and
both said, "God bless you, God bless you." I said the same to
them, and said, "I pray God to reward you, and bring your son
safe home again." When I got back to camp I found cannon
and caissons moving, and I knew and felt that General Hood
was going to strike the enemy again. Preparations were goin£
ATLANTA. 157
on, but everything seemed to be out of order and system. Men
were cursing, and seemed to be dissatisfied and unhappy, but
the army was moving.
A BODY WITHOUT LIMBS AX ARMY WITHOUT CAVALRY.
Forrest's cavalry had been sent to Mississippi; Wheeler' f
cavalry had been sent to North Carolina and East Tennessee.
Hood had sent off both of his "arms" — for cavalry was always
called the most powerful "arm" of the service. The infantry
were the feet, and the artillery the body. Now, Hood himself
had no legs, and but one arm, and that one in a sling. The most
terrible and disastrous blow that the South ever received was
when Hon. Jefferson Davis placed General Hood in command
of the Army of Tennessee. I saw, I will say, thousands of mer
cry like babies — regular, old-fashioned boohoo, boohoo, boohoo.
Now, Hood sent off all his cavalry right in the face of n
powerful army, by order and at the suggestion of Jeff Davis,
and was using his cannon as "feelers." O, God ! Ye gods ! I
get sick at heart even at this late day when I think of it.
I remember the morning that General Wheeler's cavalry
filed by our brigade, and of their telling us, "Good-bye, boys,
good-bye, boys." The First Tennessee Cavalry and Ninth Bat-
talion were both made up in Maury county. I saw John J.
Stephenson, my friend and step-brother, and David F. Watkins
my own dear brother, and Arch Lipscomb, Joe Fussell, Captain
Kinzer, Jack Gordon, George Martin, Major Dobbins, Colonel
Lewis, Captain Galloway, Aaron and Sims Latta, Major J. IT.
Akin, S. H. Armstrong, Albert Dobbins, Alex Dobbins, Jim
Cochran, Rafe Grisham, Captain Jim Polk, and many others-
with whom I was acquainted. They all said, "Good-bye, Sam,
good-bye, Sam." I cried. I remember stopping the whole com-
mand and begging them to please not leave us ; that if they did,
Atlanta, and perhaps Hood's whole army, would surrender in :
few days ; but they told me, as near as I can now remember
"We regret to leave you, but we have to obey orders." The
most ignorant private in the whole army saw everything that
we had been fighting for for four years just scattered like chaff
158 CO. H., FIBST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
to the winds. All the Generals resigned, and those who did not
resign were promoted; colonels were made brigadier-generals,
captains were made colonels, and the private soldier, well, he
deserted, don't you see? The private soldiers of the Army of
Tennessee looked upon Hood as an over-rated general, but Jeff
Davis did not.
BATTLE OF JULY 22, 1864.
Cannon balls, at long range, were falling into the city of
Atlanta. Details of citizens put out the fires as they would
occur from the burning shells. We could see the smoke rise and
hear the shells pass away over our heads as they went on toward
the doomed city.
One morning Cheatham's corps marched out and through
the city, we knew not whither, but we soon learned that we were
going to make a flank movement. After marching four or five
miles, we "about faced" and marched back again to within two
hundred yards of the place from whence we started. It was a
"flank movement," you see, and had to be counted that way any
how. Well, now as we had made the flank movement, we had
to storm and take the Federal lines, because we had made a flank
movement, you see. When one army makes a flank movement
it is courtesy on the part of the other army to recognize the flank
movement, and to change his base. Why, sir, if you don't rec-
ognize a flank movement, you ain't a graduate of West Point
Hood was a graduate of West Point, and so was Sherman. But
unfortunately there was Mynheer Dutchman commanding (Mc-
Pherson had gone to dinner) the corps that had been flanked,
and he couldn't speak English worth a cent. He, no doubt, had
on board mein lager beer, so goot as vat never vas. I sweitzer,
mem Got, you bet. Bang, bang, bang, goes our skirmish line
advancing to the attack. Hans, vat fer ish dot shooting mil
nioin left wing? Ish dot der Repels, Hans?
THE ATTACK.
The plan of battle, as conceived and put into action In
General Cleburne, was one of the boldest conceptions, and, at
ATLANTA. 159
the same time, one of the most hazardous that ever occurred ii
our army during the war, but it only required nerve and pluck
to carry it out, and General Cleburne was equal to the occasion
The Yankees had fortified on two ranges of hills, leaving a gap
in their breastworks in the valley entirely unfortified and un
protected. They felt that they could enfilade the valley between
the two lines so that no troop would or could attack at this weak
point. This valley was covered with a dense undergrowth ol
trees and bushes. General Walker, of Georgia, was ordered tc
attack on the extreme right, which he did nobly and gallantly,
giving his life for his country while leading his men, charging
their breastworks. He was killed on the very top of their works
In the meantime General Cleburne's division was inarching h\
the right flank in solid column, the same as if they were march
ing along the road, right up this valley, and thus passing between
the Yankee lines and cutting them in two, when the command
by the left flank was given, which would throw them into line
of battle. By this maneuver, Cleburne's men were right upor
their flank, and enfilading their lines, while they were expecting
an attack in their front. It was the finest piece of generalshir
and the most successful of the war.
Shineral Mynheer Dutchman says, "Hans, mein Got ! meir
Got ! vare ish Shineral Mackferson, eh ? Mein Got ! mein Got !
I shust pelieve dot der Repel ish cooming. Hans, go cotch dei
filly colt. !Now; Hans, I vants to see vedder der filly colt mid
stand fire. You get on der filly colt, und I vill get pehind dei
house, und ven you shust coome galloping py, I vill say k B-o-o-h,'
und if der filly colt don't shump, den I vill know dot der filly
colt mid stand fire." Hans says, "Pap, being as you have tc
ride her in the battle, yet get on her, and let me say booh."
Well, Shineral Mynheer gets on the colt, and Hans gets behind
the house, and as the general comes galloping by, Hans had go I
an umbrella, and on seeing his father approach, suddenly open:-
the umbrella, and hallowing at the top of his voice b-o-o-h!
b-o-o-h! B-O-O-H ! The filly makes a sudden jump and ker-flop
comes down Mynheer. lie jumps up and says, "Hans, I alvays
knoweu dot you vas a vool. You make t<x> pig a booh; vy, y<n
160 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
said booh loud enuff to scare der ole horse. Hans, go pring out
der ole horse. Der tarn Repel vill be here pefore Mackfersor
gits pack from der dinner time. I shust peleve dot der Repel
ish flanking, und dem tarn fool curnells of mem ish not got sense
enuff to know ven Sheneral Hood is flanking. Hans, bring ou1
der old horse, I vant to find out vedder Mackferson ish got pack
from der dinner time or not."
We were supporting General Cleburne's division. Our
division (Cheatham's) was commanded by General John C
Brown. Cleburne's division advanced to the attack. I was
marching by the side of a soldier by the name of James Gal-
breath, and a conscript from the Mt. Pleasant country. I never
heard a man pray and "go on" so before in my life. It actuall;
made me feel sorry for the poor fellow. Every time that oui
line would stop for a few minutes, he would get down on his-
knees and clasp his hands and commence praying. He kepi
saying, "O, my poor wife and children! God have mercy on
my poor wife and children ! God pity me and have mercy oi
my soul!" Says I, "Galbreath, what are you making a fool of
yourself that way for ? If you are going to be killed, why yoi
are as ready now as you ever will be, and you are making every-
body feel bad ; quit that nonsense." He quit, but kept mum-
bling to himself, "God have mercy! God have mercy!" Cle-
burne had reached the Yankee breastworks ; the firing had been
and was then terrific. The earth jarred, and shook, and trem-
bled, at the shock of battle as the two armies met. Charge
men ! And I saw the Confederate flag side by side with the
Federal flag. A courier dashed up and said, "General Cleburne
has captured their works — advance and attack upon his imme-
diate left. Attention, forward !" A discharge of cannon, and
a ball tore through our ranks. I heard Galbreath yell out, "O,
God, have mercy on my poor soul." The ball had cut his body
nearly in two. Poor fellow, he had gone to his reward.
We advanced to the attack on Cleburne's immediate left.
Cleburne himself was leading us in person, so that we would
not fire upon his men, who were then inside the Yankee line
His sword was drawn. I heard him say, "Follow me, boys."
ATLANTA. 161
He ran forward, and amid the blazing fires of the Yankee guns
was soon on top of the enemy's works. He had on a bob-tail
Confederate coat, which looked as if it had been cut out of a
scrimp pattern. (You see I remember the little things). Wc
were but a few paces behind, following close upon him, and soon
had captured their line of works. We were firing at the flying
foe — astraddle of their lines of battle. This would naturally
throw us in front, and Cleburne's corps supporting us. The
Yankee lines seemed routed. We followed in hot pursuit ; but
from their main line of entrenchment — which was diagonal tc
those that we had just captured, and also on which they had
built forts and erected batteries — was their artillery, raking us
fore and aft. We passed over a hill and down into a valley
being under the muzzles of this rampart of death. We had
been charging and running, and had stopped to catch our breath
right under their reserve and main line of battle. When Gen
eral George Maney said, "Soldiers, you are ordered to go for-
ward and charge that battery. When you start upon the charge
I want you to go, as it were, upon the wings of the wind. Shoot
down and bayonet the cannoneers, and take their guns at all
hazards." Old Pat Cleburne thought he had better put in a
word to his soldiers. He says, "You hear what General Maney
says, boys. If they don't take it, by the eternal God, you have
got to take it!" I heard an Irishman of the "bloody Tinth,"
and a "darn good regiment, be jabbers," speak up, and say,
"Faith, gineral, we'll take up a collection and buy you a bat-
thery, be Jasus." About this time our regiment had re-formed,
and had got their breath, and the order was given to charge, and
take their guns even at the point of the bayonet. We rushed
forward up the steep hill sides, the seething fires from ten
thousand muskets and small arms, and forty pieces of cannon
hurled right into our very faces, scorching and burning our
clothes, and hands, and faces from their rapid discharges, and
piling the ground with our dead and wounded almost in heaps.
It seemed that the hot flames of hell were turned loose in all
their fury, while the demons of damnation were laughing in the
flames, like seething serpents hissing out their rage. We gave
162 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
one long, loud cheer, and commenced the charge. As we ap-
proached their lines, like a mighty inundation of the river Ache-
ron in the infernal regions, Confederate and Federal meet
Officers with drawn swords meet officers with drawn swords, and
man to man meets man to man with bayonets and loaded guns^
The continued roar of battle sounded like unbottled thunder.
Blood covered the ground; and the dense smoke filled our eyes,
and ears, and faces. The groans of the wounded and dying rose
above the thunder of battle. But being heavily supported by
Cleburne's division, and by General L. E. Po[LVs brigade,
headed and led by General Cleburne in person, and followed by
the First and Twenty-seventh up the blazing crest, the Federal
lines waver, and break and fly, leaving us in possession of their
breastworks, and the battlefield, and I do not know how many
pieces of artillery, prisoners and small arms.
Here is where Major Allen, Lieutenant Joe Carney, Cap
tain Joe Carthell, and many other good and brave spirits gave
their lives for the cause of their country. They lie to-day, wel-
tering in their own life's blood. It was one of the bloody battles
that characterized that stormy epoch, and it was the 22nd of
July, and one of the hottest days I ever felt.
General George Maney led us in the heat of battle, and nc
general of the war acted with more gallantry and bravery during
the whole war than did General George Maney on this occasion
The victory was complete. Large quantities of provisions
and army stores, were captured. The Federals had abandoned
their entire line of breastworks,, and had changed their base.
They were fortifying upon our left, about five miles off from
their original position. The battlefield was covered with their
dead and wounded soldiers. I have never seen so many battle-
flags left indiscriminately upon any battlefield. I ran over
twenty in the charge, and could have picked them up every-
where ; did pick up one, and was promoted to fourth corporal foi
gallantry in picking up a flag on the battlefield.
On the final charge that was made, I was shot in the ankle
and heel of my foot. I crawled into their abandoned ditch,
which then seemed full and running over with our wounded
ATLANTA. 163
soldiers. I dodged behind the embankment to get out of the
raking fire that was ripping through the bushes, and tearing uj
the ground. Here I felt safe. The firing raged in front; we
could hear the shout of the charge and the clash of battle. While
I was sitting here, a cannon ball came tearing down the works
cutting a soldier's head off, spattering his brains all over mj
face and bosom, and mangling and tearing four or five other!:
to shreds. As a wounded horse was being led off, a cannon ball
struck him, and he was literally ripped open, falling in the very
place I had just moved from.
I saw an ambulance coming from toward the Yankee line,
at full gallop, saw them stop at a certain place, hastily put a
dead man in the ambulance, and gallop back toward the Yankee
lines. I did not know the meaning of this maneuver until after
the battle, wdien I learned that it was General McPherson's dead
body.
We had lost many a good and noble soldier. The casual
ties on our side were frightful. Generals, colonels, captains
lieutenants, sergeants, corporals and privates were piled indis-
criminately everywhere. Cannon, caissons, and dead horses
were piled pell-mell. It was the picture of a real battlefield.
Blood had gathered in pools, and in some instances had made
streams of blood. 'Twas a picture of carnage and death.
AM PROMOTED.
"Why, hello, corporal, where did you get those two yellovv
stripes from on your arm ?"
"Why, sir, I have been promoted for gallantry on the bat-
tlefield, by picking up an orphan flag, that had been run over
by a thousand fellows, and when I picked it up I did so becaus'
I thought it was pretty, and I wanted to have me a shirt made
out of it."
"I could have picked up forty, had I known that," said
Sloan.
"So could I, but I knew that the stragglers would pick
them up."
Eeader mine, the above dialogue is true in every particular
164 CO. H.„ FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
As long as I was in action, fighting for my country, there was
no chance for promotion, but as soon as I fell out of ranks and
picked up a forsaken and deserted flag, I was promoted for it
I felt "sorter" cheap when complimented for gallantry, and th<
high honor of fourth corporal was conferred upon me. I felJ
that those brave and noble fellows who had kept on in the charge
were more entitled to the honor than I was, for when the bal"
struck me on the ankle and heel, I did not go any further. And
had I only known that picking up flags entitled me to promotion
and that every flag picked up would raise me one notch higher
I would have quit fighting and gone to picking up flags, and by
that means I would have soon been President of the Confederate
States of America. But honors now begin to cluster around
my brow. This is the laurel and ivy that is entwined around
the noble brows of victorious and renowned generals. I hon-
estly earned the exalted honor of fourth corporal by picking ur
a Yankee battle-flag on the 22nd day of July, at Atlanta.
28TH OF JULY AT ATLANTA.
Another battle was fought by Generals Stephen D. Lee an<
Stewart's corps, on the 28th day of July. I was not in it
neither was our corps, but from what I afterwards learned, the
Yankees got the best of the engagement. But our troops con-
tinued fortifying Atlanta. ISTo other battles were ever fought
at this place.
I VISIT MONTGOMERY.
Our wounded were being sent back to Montgomery. My
name was put on the wounded list. We were placed in a box-
car, and whirling down to West Point, where we changed cars
for Montgomery. The cars drew up at the depot at Montgom
ery, and we were directed to go to the hospital. When we got
off the cars, little huckster stands were everywhere — apples
oranges, peaches, watermelons, everything. I know that I never
saw a greater display of eatables in my whole life. I was par-
ticularly attracted toward an old lady's stand ; she had bread,
ATLANTA. 165
fish, and hard boiled eggs. The eggs were what I was hungry
for. Says I :
"Madam, how do you sell your eggs ?"
"Two for a dollar," she said.
"How much is your fish worth %"
"A piece of bread and a piece of fish for a dollar."
"Well, madam, put out your fish and eggs." The fish were
hot and done to a crisp — actually frying in my mouth, crackling
and singing as I bit off a bite. It was good, I tell you. The
eggs were a little over half done. I soon demolished both, and
it was only an appetizer. I invested a couple of dollars more,
and thought that may be I could make out till supper time.
As I turned around, a smiling, one-legged man asked me if I
wouldn't like to have a drink. Now, if there was anything that
I wanted at that time, it was a drink.
"How do you sell it ?" says I.
"A dollar a drink," said he.
"Pour me out a drink."
It was a tin cap-box. I thought that I knew the old fel-
low, and he kept looking at me as if he knew me. Finally, he
said to me:
"It seems that I ought to know you."
I told him that I reckon he did, as I had been there.
"Ain't your name Sam ?" said he.
"That is what my mother called me."
Well, after shaking hands, it suddenly flashed upon me
who the old fellow was. I knew him well. He told me that
he belonged to Captain Ed. O'Neil's company, Second Tennes-
see Regiment, General William B. Bate's corps, and that his
leg had been shot off at the first battle of Manassas, and at that
time he was selling cheap whisky and tobacco for a living at
Montgomery, Alabama. I tossed off a cap-box full and paid
him a dollar. It staggered me, and I said :
"That is raw whisky."
"Yes," said he, "all my cooked whisky is out."
"If this is not quite cooked, it is as hot as fire anyhow, and
burns like red-hot lava, and the whole dose seems to have got
lodged in my windpipe."
166 CO. H.j FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
I might have tasted it, but don't think that I did. All I
can remember now, is a dim recollection of a nasty, greasy,
burning something going down my throat and chest, and smell-
ing, as I remember at this day, like a decoction of red-pepper
tea, flavored with coal oil, turpentine and tobacco juice.
THE HOSPITAL.
I went to the hospital that evening, saw it, and was satis-
fied with hospital life. I did not wish to be called a hospital
rat. I had no idea of taking stock and making my headquar-
ters at this place. Everything seemed clean and nice enough,
but the smell! Ye gods! I stayed there for supper. The
bill of fare was a thin slice of light bread and a plate of soup,
already dished out and placed at every plate. I ate it, but it
only made me hungry. At nine o'clock I had to go to bed, and
all the lights were put out. Every man had a little bunk to
himself. I do not know whether I slept or not, but I have a
dim recollection of "sawing gourds," and jumping up several
times to keep some poor wretch from strangling. He was only
snoring. I heard rats filing away at night, and thought that
burglars were trying to get in; my dreams were not pleasant,
if I went to sleep at all. I had not slept off of the ground or in
a house in three years. It was something new to me, and I
could not sleep, for the room was so dark that had I got up I
could not have found my way out. I laid there, I do not know
how long, but I heard a rooster crow, and a dim twilight began
to glimmer in the room, and even footsteps were audible in the
rooms below. I got sleepy then, and went off in a doze. I had
a beautiful dream — dreamed that I was in heaven, or rather,
that a pair of stairs with richly carved balusters and wings, and
golden steps overlaid with silk and golden-colored carpeting
came down from heaven to my room ; and two beautiful damsels
kept peeping, and laughing, and making faces at me from the
first platform of these steps ; and every now and then they would
bring out their golden harps, and sing me a sweet and happy
song. Others were constantly passing, but always going the
same way. They looked like so many school-girls, all dressed
ATLANTA. 167
in shining garments. Two or three times the two beautiful
girls would go up the stairs and return, bringing fruits and
vegetables that shined like pure gold. I knew that I never had
seen two more beautiful beings on earth. The steps began tc
lengthen out, and seemed to be all around me; they seemed to
shine a halo of glory all about. The two ladies- came closer, and
closer, passing around, having a beautiful wreath of flowers in
each hand, and gracefully throwing them backward and forward
as they laughed and danced around me. Finally, one stopped
and knelt down over me and whispered something in my ear.
I threw up my arms to clasp the beautiful vision to my bosom,
when I felt my arm grabbed, and "D — n ye, I wish you would
keep your d— n arm off my wound, ye hurt me," came from the
soldier in the next bunk. The sun was shining full in my face.
I got up and went down to breakfast. The bill of fare was
much better for breakfast than it had been for supper ; in fact,
it was what is called a "jarvis" breakfast. After breakfast, I
took a ramble around the city. It was a nice place, and mer-
chandise and other business was being carried on as if there was
no war. Hotels were doing a thriving business; steamboats
were at the wharf, whistling and playing their calliopes. I
remember the one I heard was playing "Away Down on the
Sewanee River." To me it seemed that everybody was smiling,
and happy, and prosperous.
THE CAPITOL.
I went to the capitol, and it is a fine building, overlooking
the city. When I got there, I acted just like everybody that
ever visited a fine building — they wanted to go on top and look
at the landscape. That is what they all say. Now, I always
wanted to go on top, but I never yet thought of landscape.
What I always wanted to see, was how far I could look, and
that is about all that any of them wants. It's mighty nice to
go up on a high place with your sweetheart, and hear her say;
"La! ain't it b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-1," "jSTow, now, please don't go
there," and how you walk up pretty close to the edge and spit
over, to show what a brave man you are. It's "bully," I tell
168 CO. H., FIKST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
you. Well, I wanted to go to the top of the capitol — I went ;
wanted to go up in the cupola. Now, there was an iron ladder
running up across an empty space, and you could see two hun-
dred feet below from this cupola or dome on top. The ladder
was about ten feet long, spanning the dome. It was very easy
to go up, because I was looking up all the time, and I was soon
on top of the building. I saw how far I could see, and saw the
Alabama river, winding and turning until it seemed no larger
than a silver thread. Well, I am very poor at describing and
going into ecstacies over fancies. I want some abler pen tc
describe the scene. I was not thinking about the scene or the
landscape — I was thinking how I was going to get down that
ladder again. I would come to that iron ladder and peep over,
and think if I fell, how far would I have to fall. The more I
thought about going down that ladder, the more I didn't feel
like going down. Well, I felt that I had rather die than go
down that ladder. I'm honest in this. I felt like jumping off
and committing suicide rather than go down that ladder. I
crossed right over the frightful chasm, but when forbearance
ceased to be a virtue, I tremblingly put my foot on the first
rung, then grabbed the top of the two projections. There I
remained, I don't know how long, but after awhile I reached
down with one foot and touched the next rung. After gettinc
that foot firmly placed, I ventured to risk the other foot. It
was thus for several backward steps, until I come to see down —
away down, down, down below me — and my head got giddy.
The world seemed to be turning round and round. A fellow
at the bottom hallooed, "Look up ! look up, mister ! look up !"
I was not a foot from the upper floor. As soon as I looked at
the floor, everything got steady. I kept my eyes fixed on the
top of the building, and soon made the landing on terra firma.
I have never liked high places since. I never could bear
to go up-stairs in a house. I went to the capitol at Nashville,
last winter, and Mc Andrews wanted me to go up in the cupola
with him. He went, and paid a quarter for the privilege. I
staid, and — well, if I could estimate its value by dollars — I
would say two hundred and fifty million dollars is what I made
by staying down.
ATLANTA. 169
AM ARRESTED.
The next day, while the ferryboat was crossing the river, I
asked the ferryman to let me ride over. I was halted by a
soldier who "knowed" his business.
"Your pass, sir!"
"Well, I have no pass!"
"Well, sir, I will have to arrest you, and take you before
the provost marshal."
"Very well, sir ; I will go with you to the provost or any-
where else."
I appear before the provost marshal.
"What command do you belong to, sir ?"
"Well, sir, I belong to Company H, First Tennessee Regi-
ment. I am a wounded man sent to the hospital."
"Well, sir, that's too thin ; why did you not get a pass V*
"I did not think one was required."
"Give me your name, sir."
I gave my name.
"Sergeant, take this name to the hospital and ask if such
name is registered on their books."
I told him that I knew it was not. The sergeant returns
and reports no such name, when he remarks :
"You have to go to the guard-house."
Says I, "Colonel (I knew his rank was that of captain),
if you send me to the guard-house, you will do me a great
wrong. Here is where I was wounded." I pulled off my shoe
and began to unbandage.
"Well, sir, I don't want to look at your foot, and I have nc
patience with you. Take him to the guard-house."
Turning back I said, "Sir, aye, aye, you are clothed with
a little brief authority, and appear to be presuming pretty heavy
on that authority; but, sir" — well I have forgotten what I did
say. The sergeant took me by the arm, and said, "Come, come,
sir, I have my orders."
As I was going up the street, I met Captain Dave Buckner,
and told him all the circumstances of my arrest as briefly as I
170 CO. H., FIKST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
could. He said, " Sergeant, bring him back with me to the pro-
vost marshal's office." They were as mad as wet hens. Their
faces were burning, and I could see their jugular veins go
thump, thump, thump. I do not know what Captain Buckner
said to them, all I heard were the words "otherwise insulted
me." But I was liberated, and was glad of it.
THOSE GIRLS.
I then went back to the river, and gave a fellow two dollars
to "row me over the ferry." I was in no particular hurry, and
limped along at my leisure until about nightfall, when I came
to a nice, cosy-looking farm house, and asked to stay all night.
I was made very welcome, indeed. There were two very pretty
girls here, and I could have "loved either were 'tother dear
charmer away." But I fell in love with both of them, and
thereby overdid the thing. This was by a dim fire-light. The
next day was Sunday, and we all went to church in the country.
We went in an old rockaway carriage. I remember that the
preacher used the words "O, God," nineteen times in his prayer.
I had made up my mind which one of the girls I would marry.
Now, don't get mad, fair reader mine. I was all gallantry and
smiles, and when we arrived at home, I jumped out and took
hold the hand of my fair charmer to help her out. She put her
foot out, and — well, I came very near telling — she tramped on a
cat. The cat squalled.
THE TALISMAN.
But then, you know, reader, that I was engaged to Jennie
and I had a talisman in my pocket Bible, in the way of a love
letter, against the charms of other beautiful and interesting
young ladies. Uncle Jimmie Rieves had been to Maury county,
and, on returning to Atlanta, found out that I was wounded
and in the hospital at Montgomery, and brought the letter to
me; and, as I am married now, I don't mind telling you whal
was in the letter, if you won't laugh at me. You see, Jennie
was my sweetheart, and here is my sweetheart's letter :
My Dear Sani.:— I write to tell you that I love you yet, and you alooi-; anJ
ATLANTA. 171
day by day I love you more, and pray every night and morning for your safe
return home again. My greatest grief Is that we heard you were wounded and
in the hospital, and I cannot be with you to nurse you.
We heard of the death of many noble and brave men at Atlanta; and Che
death of Captain Carthell, Cousin Mary's husband. It was sent by Captain
January; he belonged to the Twelfth Tennessee, of which Colonel Watkins
was lieutenant-colonel.
The weather is very beautiful here, and the flowers in the garden are in
full bloom, and the apples are getting ripe. I have gathered a small bouquet.
which I will put in the letter; I also send by Uncle Jlmmle a tobacco bag. and
a watch-guard, made out of horse hair, and a woolen hood, knit with my own
hands, with love and best respects.
We heard that you had captured a flag at Atlanta, and was promoted for it
to corporal. Is that some high office? 1 know you will be a general yet, because
I always hear of your being in every battle, and always the foremost man in
the attack. Sam, please take care of yourself for my sake, and don't let the
Yankees kill you. Well, good-bye, darling, I will ever pray for God's richest
and choicest blessings upon you. Be sure and write a long, long letter— I
don't care how long, to your loving and sincere JENNIE.
THE BRAVE CAPTAIN.
When I got back to the Alabama river, opposite Mont-
gomery, the ferryboat was on the other shore. A steamboat
had just pnlled out of its moorings and crossed over to where I
was, and began to take on wood. I went on board, and told
the captain, who was a clever and good man, that I would like
to take a trip with him to Mobile and back, and that I was a
wounded soldier from the hospital. He told me "All right
come along, and I will foot expenses."
It was about sunset, but along the line of the distant hori-
zon we could see the dark and heavy clouds begin to boil up in
thick and ominous columns. The lightning was darting to and
fro like lurid sheets of fire, and the storm seemed to be gath-
ering ; we could hear the storm king in his chariot in the clouds,
rumbling as he came, but a dead lull was seen and felt in the
air and in nature ; everything was in a holy hush, except the
hoarse belchings of the engines, the sizzing and frying of the
boilers, and the work of the machinery on the lower deck. At
last the storm burst upon us in all its fury; it was a tornado
and the women and children began to scream and pray — the
mate to curse and swear. I was standing by the captain on the
main upper deck, as he was trying to direct the pilot how to
steer the boat through that awful storm, when we heard the
alarm bell ring out, and the hoarse cry of "Fire! fire! fire!"
Men were running toward the fire with buckets, and the hose
began throwing water on the flames. Men, women, and chil-
dren were jumping in the water, and the captain used every
172 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
effort to quiet the panic, and to land his boat with its passengers,
but the storm and fire were too much, and down the vessel sank
to rise no more. Many had been saved in the lifeboat, and
many were drowned. I jumped overboard, and the last thing
I saw was the noble and brave captain still ringing the bell, as
the vessel went down. He went down amid the flames to fill a
watery grave. The water was full of struggling and dying
people for miles. I did not go to Mobile.
HOW I GET BACK TO ATLANTA.
When I got to Montgomery, the cars said toot, toot, and I
raised the hue and cry and followed in pursuit. Kind friends.
I fear that I have wearied you with my visit to Montgomery,
but I am going back to camp now, and will not leave it again
until our banner is furled never to be again unfurled.
I, you remember, was without a pass, and did not wish tc
be carried a second time before that good, brave, and just pro-
vost marshal; and something told me not to go to the hospital.
T found out when the cars would leave, and thought that I would
get on them and go back without any trouble. I got on the
cars, but was hustled off mighty quick, because I had no pass,
A train of box-cars was about leaving for West Point, and I took
a seat on top of one of them, and was again hustled off; but I
had determined to go, and as the engine began to puff, and tug.
and pull, I slipped in between two box-cars, sitting on one part
< if one and putting my feet on the other, and rode this way until
I got to West Point. The conductor discovered me, and had
put me off several times before I got to West Point, but I would
jump on again as soon as the cars started. When I got to West
Point, a train of cars started off, and I ran, trying to get on.
when Captain Peebles reached out his hand and pulled me in,
and I arrived safe and sound at Atlanta.
On my way back to Atlanta, I got with Dow Akin and
Billy March. Billy March had been shot through the under
jaw by a minnie ball at the octagon house, but by proper atten-
tion and nursing, he had recovered. Conner Akin was killed
at the octagon house, and Dow wounded. When we got back
ATLANTA. 173
to the regiment, then stationed near a fine concrete house (where
Shepard and I would sleep every night), nearly right on our
works, we found two thirty-two-pound parrot guns stationed in
our immediate front, and throwing shells away over our heads
into the city of Atlanta. We had just begun to tell all the boys
howdy, when I saw Dow Akin fall. A fragment of shell had
struck him on his backbone, and he was carried back wounded
and bleeding. We could see the smoke boil up, and it would be
nearly a minute before we would hear the report of the cannon,
and then a few moments after we would hear the scream of the
shell as it went on to Atlanta. We used to count from the time
we would see the smoke boil up until we would hear the noise,
and some fellow would call out, "Look out boys, the United
States is sending iron over into the Southern Confederacy ; let's
send a little lead back to the United States." And we would
blaze away with our Enfield and Whitworth guns, and every
time we would fire, we would silence those parrot guns. This
kind of fun was carried on for forty-six days.
DEATH OF TOM TUCK's ROOSTER.
Atlanta was a great place to fight chickens. I had heard
much said about cock pits and cock fights, but had never seen
such a thing. Away over the hill, outside of the range of
Thomas' thirty-pound parrot guns, with which he was trying
to burn up Atlanta, the boys had fixed up a cock pit. It was
fixed exactly like a circus ring, and seats and benches were ar-
ranged for the spectators. Well, I went to the cock fight one
day. A great many roosters were to be pitted that day, and
each one was trimmed and gaffed. A gaff is a long keen piece
of steel, as sharp as a needle, that is fitted over the spurs. Well,
I looked on at the fun. Tom Tuck's rooster was named South-
ern Confederacy; but this was abbreviated to Confed., and a?
a pet name, they called him Fed. Well, Fed was a trained
rooster, and would "clean up" a big-foot rooster as soon as he
was put in the pit. But Tom always gave Fed every advan-
tage. One day a green-looking country hunk came in with a
rooster that he wanted to pit against Fed. He looked like a
174 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
common rail-splitter. The money was soon made up, and the
stakes placed in proper hands. The gaffs were fitted, the roos
ters were placed in the pit and held until both were sufficiently
mad to fight, when they were turned loose, and each struck at
the same time. I looked and poor Fed was dead. The othei
rooster had popped both gaffs through his head. He was a dead
rooster ; yea, a dead cock in the pit. Tom went and picked up
his rooster, and said, "Poor Fed, I loved you ; you used to crow
every morning at daylight to wake me up. I have carried you
a long time, but, alas ! alas ! poor Fed, your days are numbered,
and those who fight will sometimes be slain. Now, friends,
conscripts, countrymen, if you have any tears to shed, prepare
to shed them now. I will not bury Fed. The evil that roosters
do live after them, but the good is oft interred with their bones.
So let it not be with Confed. Confed left no will, but I will
pick him, and fry him, and dip my biscuit in his gravy. Poor
Fed, Confed, Confederacy, I place one hand on my heart and
one on my head, regretting that I have not another to place on
my stomach, and whisper, softly whisper, in the most doleful
accents, Good-bye, farewell, a long farewell."
"Not a laugh was heard— not even a joke-
As the dead rooster in the camp-kettle they hurried;
For Tom had lost ten dollars, and was broke,
In the cock-pit where Confed was buried.
"They cooked him slowly in the middle of the day,
As the frying-pan they were solemnly turning;
The hungry fellows looking at him as he lay,
With one side raw, the other burning. .
"Some surplus feathers covered his breast,
Not in a shroud, but in a tiara they soused him;
He lay like a 'picked chicken' taking his rest,
While the Rebel boys danced and cursed around him.
"Not a few or short were the cuss words they said,
Yet, they spoke many words of sorrow;
As thev steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead.
And thought 'what'll we do for chicken to-morrow?'
"Lightly they'll talk of the Southern Confed. that's gone,
And o'er his empty carcass upbraid him;
But nothing he'll reck, if they let him sleep on,
In the place where they have laid him.
"Sadly and slowly they laid him down.
From the tield of fame fresh and gory;
They ate off his flesh, and threw away his bones.
And then left them alone In their glory."
ATLANTA. 175
When, cut, slash, bang, debang, and here comes a dash of
Yankee cavalry, right in the midst of the camp, under whip and
spur, veiling like a band of wild Comanches, and bearing right
down on the few mourners around the dead body of Confed
After making this bold dash, they about faced, and were soon
out of sight. There was no harm done, but, alas ! that cooked
chicken was gone. Poor Confed ! To what a sad end you have
come. Just to think, that but a few short hours ago, you was
a proud rooster — was "cock of the walk," and was considered
invincible. But, alas ! you have sunk so low as to become food
for Federals ! Requiescat in pace — you can crow no more.
OLD JOE BROWN'S PETS.
By way of grim jest, and a fitting burlesque to tragic
scenes, or, rather, to the thing called "glorious war," old Joe
Brown, then Governor of Georgia, sent in his militia. It was
the richest picture of an army I ever saw. It beat Forepaugh's
double-ringed circus. Every one was dressed in citizen's clothes,
and the very best they had at that time. A few had double-
barreled shot-guns, but the majority had umbrellas and walking-
sticks, and nearly every one had on a duster, a flat-bosomed
"biled" shirt, and a plug hat ; and, to make the thing more ridic-
ulous, the dwarf and the giant were marching side by side ; the
knock-kneed by the side of the bow-legged ; the driven-in by the
side of the drawn-out; the pale and sallow dyspeptic, who
looked like Alex. Stephens, and who seemed to have just been
taken out of a chimney that smoked very badly, and whose diet
was goobers and sweet potatoes, was placed beside the three
hundred-pounder, who was dressed up to kill, and whose looks
seemed to say, "I've got a substitute in the army, and twenty
negroes at home besides — h-a-a-m, h-a-a-m." Now, that is the
sort of army that old Joe Brown had when he seceded from the
Southern Confederacy, declaring that each state was a separate
sovereign government of itself; and, as old Joe Brown was an
original secessionist, he wanted to exemplify the grand prin-
ciples of secession, that had been advocated by Patrick Henry.
John Randolph, of Roanoke, and John C. Calhoun, in all of
176 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
whom he was a firm believer. I will say, however, in all due
deference to the Georgia militia and old Joe Brown's pets, that
there was many a gallant and noble fellow among them. I
remember on one occasion that I was detailed to report to a cap-
tain of the Fourth Tennessee Regiment (Colonel Farquharson.
called "Guidepost") ; I have forgotten that captain's name. He
was a small-sized man, with a large, long set of black whiskers.
He was the captain, and I the corporal of the detail. We were
ordered to take a company of the Georgia militia on a scout.
We went away around to our extreme right wing, passing
through Terry's mill pond, and over the old battlefield of the
22nd, and past the place where General Walker fell, when we
came across two ladies. One of them kept going from one tree
to another, and saying: "This pine tree, that pine tree; this
pine tree, that pine tree." In answer to our inquiry, they in-
formed us that the young woman's husband was killed on the
22nd, and had been buried under a pine tree, and she was nearly
crazy because she could not find his dead body. We passed on,
and as soon as we came in sight of the old line of Yankee breast-
works, an unexpected volley of minnie balls was fired into our
ranks, killing this captain of the Fourth Tennessee Regiment
and killing and wounding seven or eight of the Georgia militia.
I hallooed to lay down, as soon as possible, and a perfect whizz
of minnie balls passed over, when I immediately gave the com-
mand of attention, forward, charge and capture that squad.
That Georgia militia, every man of them, charged forward, and
in a few moments we ran into a small squad of Yankees, and
captured the whole "lay out." We then carried back to camp
the dead captain and the killed and wounded militia. I had
seen a great many men killed and wounded, but some how or
other these dead and wounded men, of that day, made a more
serious impression on my mind than in any previous or subse-
quent battles. They were buried with all the honors of war,
and I never will forget the incidents and scenes of this day as
long as I live.
WE GO AFTER STONEMAN.
One morning our regiment was ordered to march, double-
ATLANTA. 177
quick, to the depot to take the cars for somewhere. The engine
was under steam, and ready to start for that mysterious some-
where. The whistle blew long and loud, and away we went at
break-neck speed for an hour, and drew up at a little place by
the name of Jonesboro. The Yankees had captured the town,
and were tearing up the railroad track. A regiment of Rebel
infantry and a brigade of cavalry were already in line of battle
in their rear. We jumped out of the cars and advanced to
attack them in front. Our line had just begun to open a pretty
brisk fire on the Yankee cavalry, when they broke, running
right through and over the lines of the regiment of infantry
and brigade of cavalry in their rear, the men opening ranks to
get out of the way of the hoofs of their horses. It was Stone-
man's cavalry, upon its celebrated raid toward Macon and An-
derson ville to liberate the Federal prisoners. We went to work
like beavers, and in a few hours the railroad track had been
repaired so that we could pass. Every few miles we would find
the track torn up, but we would get out of the cars, fix up the
track, and light out again. We were charging a. brigade of cav-
alry with a train of cars, as it were. They would try to stop
our progress by tearing up the track, but we were crowding them
a little too strong. At last they thought it was time to quit that
foolishness, and then commenced a race between cavalry and care
for Macon, Georgia. The cars had to run exceedingly slow and
careful, fearing a tear up or ambuscade, but at last Macon
came in sight. Twenty-five or thirty thousand Federal pris-
oners were confined at this place, and it was poorly guarded and
protected. We feared that Stoneman would only march in,
overpower the guards, and liberate the prisoners, and we would
have some tall fighting to do, but on arriving at Macon, we found
that Stoneman and all of his command had just surrendered tr
a brigade of cavalry and the Georgia militia, and we helped
march the gentlemen inside the prison walls at Macon. They
had furnished their own transportation, paying their own way
and bearing their own expenses, and instead of liberating any
prisoners, were themselves imprisoned. An extra detail was
made as guard from our regiment to take them on to Anderson-
/./
178 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
ville, but I was not on this detail, so I remained until the detail
returned.
Macon is a beautiful place. Business was flourishing like
a green bay tree. The people were good, kind, and clever to us.
Everywhere the hospitality of their homes was proifered us
We were regarded as their liberators. They gave us all the good
things they had — eating, drinking, etc. We felt our conse
quence, I assure you, reader. We felt we were heroes, indeed ;
but the benzine and other fluids became a little promiscuous
and the libations of the boys a little too heavy. They began to
get boisterous — I might say, riotous. Some of the boys got to
behaving badly, and would go into stores and places, and did
many things they ought not to have done. In fact, the whole
caboodle of them ought to have been carried to the guard-house.
They were whooping, and yelling, and firing off their guns, just
for the fun of the thing. I remember of going into a very nice
family's house, and the old lady told the dog to go out, go out,
sir ! and remarked rather to herself, "Go out, go out ! I wish
you were killed, anyhow." John says, "Madam, do you want
that dog killed, sure enough ?" She says, "Yes, I do. I dc
wish that he was dead." Before I could even think or catch my
breath, bang went John's gun, and the dog was weltering in his
blood right on the good lady's floor, the top of his head entirely
torn off. I confess, reader, that I came very near jumping out
of my skin, as it were, at the unexpected discharge of the gun.
And other such scenes, I reckon, were being enacted elsewhere
but at last a detail was sent around to arrest all stragglers, and
we were soon rolling back to Atlanta.
"bellum LETHALE."
Well, after "jugging" Stoneman, we go back to Atlanta
and occupy our same old place near the concrete house. We
found everything exactly as we had left it, with the exception
of the increased number of graybacks, which seemed to have
propagated a thousand-fold since we left, and they were crawl-
ing about like ants, making little paths and tracks in the dirt
as they wiggled and waddled about, hunting for ye old Eebel
ATLANTA. 179
soldier. Sherman's two thirty-pound parrot guns were in the
same position, and every now and then a lazy-looking shell
would pass over, speeding its way on to Atlanta.
The old citizens had dug little cellars, which the soldiers
called "gopher holes," and the women and children were crowd-
ed together in these cellars, while Sherman was trying to burn
the city over their heads. But, as I am not writing history, 1
refer you to any history of the war for Sherman's war record in
and around Atlanta.
As John and I started to go back, we thought we would
visit the hospital. Great God ! I get sick to-day when I think
of the agony, and suffering, and sickening stench and odor of
dead and dying; of wounds and sloughing sores, caused by the
deadly gangrene; of the groaning and wailing. I cannot de-
scribe it. I remember, I went in the rear of the building, and
there I saw "a pile of arms and legs, rotting and decomposing;
and, although I saw thousands of horrifying scenes during the
war, yet to-day I have no recollection in my whole life, of evei
seeing anything that I remember with more horror than that
pile of legs and arms that had been cut off our soldiers. As
John and I went through the hospital, and were looking at the
poor suffering fellows, I heard a weak voice calling, "Sam, O,
Sam." I went to the poor fellow, but did not recognize him at
first, but soon found out that it was James Galbreath, the pool
fellow who had been shot nearly in two on the 22nd of July. I
tried to be cheerful, and said, "Hello, Galbreath, old fellow, I
thought you were in heaven long before this." He laughed a
sort of dry, cracking laugh, and asked me to hand him a drink
of water. I handed it to him. He then began to mumble and
tell me something in a rambling and incoherent way, but all I
could catch was for me to write to his family, who were living
near Mt. Pleasant, I asked him if he was badly wounded.
He only pulled down the blanket, that was all. I get sick when
I think of it. The lower part of his body was hanging to the
upper part by a shred, and all of his entrails were lying on the
cot with him, the bile and other excrements exuding from them,
and they full of maggots. I replaced the blanket as tenderly
180 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
as I could, and then said, "Galbreath, good-bye." I then kissed
him on his lips and forehead, and left. As I passed on, he kept
trying to tell me something, but I could not make out what he
said, and fearing I would cause him to exert himself too much.
I left,
It was the only field hospital that I saw during the whole
war, and I have no desire to see another. Those hollow-eyed
and sunken-cheeked sufferers, shot in every conceivable part of
the body ; some shrieking, and calling upon their mothers ; some
laughing the hard, cackling laugh of the sufferer without hope
and some cursing like troopers, and some writhing and groaning
as their wounds were being bandaged and dressed. I saw a
man of the Twenty-seventh, who had lost his right hand, another
his leg, then another whose head was laid open, and I could see
his brain thump, and another with his under jaw shot off; ir
fact, wounded in every manner possible.
Ah ! reader, there is no glory for the private soldier, much
less a conscript. James Galbreath was a conscript, as was also
Fain King. Mr. King was killed at Chickamauga. He and
Galbreath were conscripted and joined Company H at the same
time. Both were old men, and very poor, with large families
at home ; and they were forced to go to war against their wishes,
while their wives and little children were at home without the
necessaries of life. The officers have all the glory. Glory is
not for the private soldier, such as die in the hospitals, being
eat up with the deadly gangrene, and being imperfectly waited
on. Glory is for generals, colonels, majors, captains, and lieu-
tenants. They have all the glory, and when the poor private
wins battles by dint of sweat, hard marches, camp and picket
duty, fasting and broken bones, the officers get the glory. The
private's pay was eleven dollars per month, if he got it; the
general's pay was three hundred dollars per month, and he al
ways got his. I am not complaining. These things happened
sixteen to twenty years ago. Men who never fired a gun, noi
killed a Yankee during the whole war, are to-day the heroes of
the war. Now, I tell you what I think about it : I think that
those of us who fought as private soldiers, fought as much for
ATLANTA. 181
glory as the general did, and those of us who stuck it out to the
last, deserve more praise than the general who resigned because
some other general was placed in command over him. A gen
eral could resign. That was honorable. A private could not
resign, nor choose his branch of service, and if he deserted, it
was death.
THE SCOUT AND DEATH OF A YANKEE LIEUTENANT.
General Hood had sent off all his cavalry, and a detail was
made each day of .^o many men for a scout, to find out all we
could about the movements of the Yankees. Colonel George
Porter, of the Sixth Tennessee, was in command of the detail
We passed through Atlanta, and went down the railroad foi
several miles, and then made a flank movement toward where
we expected to come in contact with the Yankees. When we
came to a skirt of woods, we were deployed as skirmishers.
Colonel Porter ordered us to re-prime our guns and to advance
at twenty-five paces apart, being deployed as skirmishers, and
to keep under cover as much as possible. He need not have told
us this, because we had not learned war for nothing. We would
run from one tree to another, and then make a careful recon-
noiter before proceeding to another. We had begun to get a
little careless, when bang! bang! bang! It seemed that we had
got into a Yankee ambush. The firing seemed to be from all
sides, and was rattling among the leaves and bushes. It ap-
peared as if some supernatural, infernal battle was going on
and the air was full of smoke. We had not seen the Yankees
I ran to a tree to my right, and just as I got to it, I saw my com
rn<lc sink to the ground, clutching at the air as he fell dead. I
kept trying to see the Yankees, so that I might shoot. I had
been looking a hundred yards ahead, when happening to look
not more than ten paces from me, I saw a big six-foot Yankee
with a black feather in his hat, aiming deliberately at me. I
dropped to the ground, and at the same moment heard the re-
port, and my hat was knocked off in the bushes. I remained
perfectly still, and in a few minutes I saw a young Yankee
lieutenant peering through the bushes. I would rather not have
182 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
killed him, but I was afraid to fire and afraid to run, and yet I
did not wish to kill him. He was as pretty as a woman, and
somehow I thought I had met him before. Our eyes met. He
stood like a statue. He gazed at me with a kind of scared ex-
pression. I still did not want to kill him, and am sorry to-day
that I did, for I believe I could have captured him, but I fired,
and saw the blood spurt all over his face. He was the prettiest
youth I ever saw. When I fired, the Yankees broke and run,
and I went up to the boy I had killed, and the blood was gushing
out of his mouth. I was sorry.
ATLANTA FORSAKEN.
One morning about the break of day our artillery opened
along our breastworks, scaring us almost to death, for it was the
first guns that had been fired for more than a month. We
sprang to our feet and grabbed our muskets, and ran out and
asked some one what did that mean. We were informed that
they were "feeling" for the Yankees. The comment that was
made by the private soldier was simply two words, and those
two words were "O, shucks." The Yankees had gone — no out
knew whither — and our batteries were shelling the woods, feel-
ing for them. "O, shucks."
"Hello," says Hood, "Whar in the Dickens and Tom
Walker are them Yanks, hey % Feel for them with long-range
'feelers.' " A boom, boom. "Can anybody tell me whar then:
Yanks are ? Send out a few more 'feelers.' The feelers in the
shape of cannon balls will bring them to taw." Boom, boom,
boom.
"For the want of a nail, the shoe was lost,
For the want of a shoe the horse was lost,
For the want of a horse the general was lost,
For the want of a general the battle was lost."
Forrest's cavalry had been sent off somewhere. Wheeler's
cavalry had been sent away yonder in the rear of the enemy tc
tear up the railroad and cut of their supplies, etc., and we had
to finel out the movements of the enemy by "feeling for them"
by shelling the vacant woods. The Yankees were at that time
twenty-five miles in our rear, "a hundred thousand strong," at
ATLANTA. 183
a place called Jonesboro. I do not know how it was found out
that they were at Jonesboro, but anyhow, the news had come
and Cheatham's corps had to go and see about it.
Stewart's corps must hold Atlanta, and Stephen D. Lee'.:
corps must be stretched at proper distance, so that the word
could be passed backward and forward as to how they were get-
ting along. As yet it is impossible to tell of the movements of
the enemy, because our cannon balls had not come back and
reported any movements to us. We had always heard that can-
non balls were blind, and we did not suppose they could see tc
find their way back. Well, our corps made a forced inarch foi
a day and a night, and passed the word back that we had seen
some signs of the Yankees being in that vicinity, and thought
perhaps, a small portion — about a hundred thousand — were
nigh about there somewhere. Says he, "It's a strange thing yor
don't knowT ; send out your feelers." We sent out a few feelers
and they report back very promptly that the Yankees are hen
sure enough, or that is what our feelers say. Pass the word up
the line. The word is passed from mouth to mouth of Lee's
skirmish line twenty-five miles back to Atlanta. Well, if that
be the case, we will set fire to all of our army stores, spike all om
cannon, and play "smash" generally, and forsake Atlanta.
In the meantime, just hold on where you are till Stewan
gets through his job of blowing up arsenals, burning up the army
stores, and spiking the cannon, and we will send our negro bo}
Cresar dowm to the horse lot to see if he can't catch old jSTance,
but she is such a fool with that young suckling colt of hers, that
it takes him almost all day to catch her, and if the draw-ban
happen to be down, she'll get in the clover patch, and I don't
think he will catch her to-day. But if he don't catch her, I'll
ride Balaam anyhow. He's got a mighty sore back, and needs
a shoe put on his left hind foot, and he cut his ankle with a
broken shoe on his fore foot, and has not been fed to-day
However, I will be along by-and-by. Stewart, do you think you
will be able to get through with your job of blowing up by day
after to-morrow, or by Saturday at twelve o'clock ? Lee, pase
the word down to Cheatham, and ask him what he thinks the
184 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
Yankees are doing. JSTow, Kinlock, get my duster and um-
brella, and bring out Balaam.
Xow, reader, that was the impression made on the private's
mind at that time.
CHAPTER XIV.— JONESBORO.
THE BATTLE OF JONESBORO.
Stewart's corps was at Atlanta, Lee's corps was between
Atlanta and Jonesboro, and Cheatham's corps, then numbering
not more than five thousand men — because the woods and road:-
were full of straggling soldiers, who were not in the fight —
was face to face with the whole Yankee army, and he was com-
pelled to flee, fight, or surrender. This was the position and
condition of the grand Army of Tennessee on this memorable
occasion.
If I am not mistaken, General Cleburne was commanding
Cheatham's corps at that time. We expected to be ordered intc
action every moment, and kept see-sawing backward and for-
ward, until I did not know which way the Yankees were, or
which way the Rebels. We would form line of battle, charge
bayonets, and would raise a whoop and yell, expecting to be-
dashed right against the Yankee lines, and then the order would
be given to retreat. Then we would immediately re-form and
be ordered to charge again a mile off at another place. Then we
would march and countermarch backward and forward over the
same ground, passing through Jonesboro away over the hill, and
then back through the town, first four forward and back ; your
JONESBORO. 185
right hand to your left hand lady, swing half round and balance
all. This sort of a movement is called a "feint." A feint is
what is called in poker a "bluff," or what is called in a bully n
"brag." A feint means anything but a fight. If a lady faints
she is either scared or in love, and wants to fall in her lover's
arms. If an army makes a feint movement, it is trying to hide
some other movement.
"Hello, Lee, what does Cleburne say the Yankees are doinc
at Jonesboro ?"
"They are fanning themselves."
"Well, keep up that feint movement until all the boys fainl
from sheer exhaustion."
"Hello, Stewart, do you think you will be able to burn up
those ten locomotives, and destroy those hundred car loads of
provisions by day after to-morrow ?"
"Lee, ask Cleburne if he feels feinty % Ask him how a fel-
low7 feels when he feints ?"
Cleburne says : "I have feinted, feinted, and feinted, until
I can't feint any longer."
"Well," says Hood, "if you can't feint any longer, you had
better flee, fight, or faint; Balaam gets along mighty slow, but
I'll be thar after awhile."
At one o'clock we were ordered to the attack. We had tc
pass through an osage orange hedge that was worse than the
enemy's fire. Their breastworks were before us. We yelled,
and charged, and hurrahed, and said booh ! booh ! we're coming,
coming, look out, don't you see us coming ? Why don't you let
us hear the cannon's opening roar. Why don't you rattle a few
old muskets over there at us ? Booh ! booh ! we are coming.
Tag. We have done got to your breastworks. Xow, we tagged
first, why don't you tag back ? A Yankee seems to be lying on
the other side of the breastworks sunning himself, and raising
himself on his elbow, says, "Fool who with your fatty bread?
W-e are too o-l-d a-birds to be caught with that kind of chaff.
We don't want any of that kind of pie. What you got there
wouldn't make a mouthful. Bring on your pudding and pound-
cake, and then we will talk to ye."
186 CO. H., FIKST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
General Granberry, who, poor fellow, was killed in the
butchery at Franklin afterwards, goes up to the breastworks,
and says, "Look her, Yank, we're fighting, sure enough.''
Meynheer Dutchman comes out, and says, "Ish dot so ?
Vel I ish peen von leetle pit hungry dish morning, und I yust
gobble you up for mein lunch pefore tinner dime. Dot ish der
kind of mans vot I bees !"
Now, reader, that is a fine description of this memorable
battle. That's it — no more, no less. I was in it all, and saw
General Granberry captured. We did our level best to get up
a fight, but it was no go, any way we could fix it up. I mean
no disrespect to General Hood. He was a noble, brave, and
good man, and we loved him for his many virtues and goodness
of heart. I do not propose to criticize his generalship or ability
as a commander. I only write of the impression and sentiment
that were made upon the private's mind at the time, and as I
remember them now. But Atlanta had fallen into the hands
of the Yankees, and they were satisfied for the time.
DEATH OF LIEUTENANT JH3HN WHITTAKEK.
At this place we built small breastworks, but for what pur-
pose I never knew. The Yankees seemed determined not to
fight, no way we could fix it. Every now and then they would
send over a "feeler," to see how we were getting along. Some-
times these "feelers" would do some damage. I remember one
morning we were away over a hill, and every now and then here
would come one of those lazy-looking "feelers," just bouncing
along as if he were in no hurry, called in military "ricochet/"
They were very easy to dodge, if you could see them in time
Well, one morning, as before remarked, Lieutenant John Whit-
taker, then in command of Company H, and myself were sitting
down eating breakfast out of the same tin plate. We were sop-
ping gravy out with some cold corn bread, when Captain W. C.
Elournoy, of the Martin Guards, hallooed out, "Look out, Sam :
look! look!" I just turned my head, and in turning, the can-
non ball knocked my hat off, and striking Lieutenant Whittaker
full in the side of the head, carried away the whole of the skull
JONESBORO. 187
part, leaving only the face. His brains fell in the plate from
which we were sopping, and his head fell in my lap, deluging
my face and clothes with his blood. Poor fellow, he never
knew what hurt him. His spirit went to its God that morning.
Green Rieves carried the poor boy off on his shoulder, and, after
wrapping him up in a blanket, buried him. His bones are ac
Jonesboro to-day. The cannon ball did not go twenty yards
after accomplishing its work of death. Captain Flournoy
laughed at me, and said, "Sam, that came very near getting you
One-tenth of an inch more would have cooked your goose." I
saw another man try to stop one of those balls that was just roll-
ing along on the ground. He put his foot out to stop the ball
but the ball did not stop, but, instead, carried the man's leg off
with it. He no doubt to-day walks on a cork-leg, and is tax
collector of the county in which he lives. I saw a thoughtless
boy trying to catch one in his hands as it bounced along. He
caught it, but the next moment his spirit had gone to meet its
God. But, poor John, we all loved him. He died for his coun-
try. His soul is with his God. He gave his all for the country
he loved, and may he rest in peace under the shade of the tree
where he is buried,, any may the birds sing their sweetest songs,
the flowers put forth their most beautiful blooms, while the gen-
tle breezes play about the brave boy's grave. Green Rieves was
the only person at the funeral ; no tears of a loving mother or
gentle sister were there. Green interred his body, and there it
will remain till the resurrection. John Whittaker deserves
more than a passing notice. He was noble and brave, and when
he was killed, Company H was without an officer then command-
ing. Every single officer had been killed, wounded, or cap-
tured. John served as a private soldier the first year of the
war, and at the reorganization at Corinth, Mississippi, he, W.
J. Whitthorne and myself all ran for orderly sergeant of Com-
pany H, and John was elected, and the first vacancy occurring
after the death of Captain Webster, he was commissioned brevet
second lieutenant. When the war broke out, John was clerking
for John L. & T. S. Brandon, in Columbia. He had been in
every march, skirmish, and battle that had been fought during
188 CO. H., FIEST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
the war. Along the dusty road, on the march, in the bivouac
and on the battlefield, he was the same noble, generous boy :
always, kind, ever gentle, a smile ever lighting up his counte-
nance. He was one of the most even tempered men I ever
knew. I never knew him to speak an unkind word to anyone.
or use a profane or vulgar word in my life.
One of those ricochet cannon balls struck my old friend,
X. B. Shepard. Shep was one of the bravest and best soldiers
avIio ever shouldered a musket. It is true, he was but a private
soldier, but he was the best friend I had during the whole war.
In intellect he was far ahead of most of the generals, and would
have honored and adorned the name of general in the C. S. A
He was ever brave and true. He followed our cause to the end
yet all the time an invalid. To-day he is languishing on a bed
of pain and sickness, caused by that ball at Jonesboro. The
ball struck him on his knapsack, knocking him twenty feet, and
breaking one or two ribs and dislocating his shoulder. He was
one of God's noblemen,, indeed — none braver, none more gener
ous. God alone controls our destinies, and surely He whe
watched over us and took care of us in those dark and bloody
days, will not forsake us now. God alone fits and prepares for
us the things that are in store for us. There is none so wise as
to foresee the future or foretell the end. God sometimes seems
afar off, but He will never leave or forsake anyone who puts his
trust in Him. The day will come when the good as well as evil
will all meet on one broad platform, to be rewarded for the deeds
done in the body, when time shall end, with the gates of eternity
closed, and the key fastened to the girdle of God forever. Par-
don me, reader, I have wandered. But when my mind reverts
to those scenes and times, I seem to live in another age and time
and I sometime think that "after us comes the end of the uni-
verse."
I am not trying to moralize, I am only trying to write a
few scenes and incidents that came under the observation of a
poor old Rebel web-foot private soldier in those stormy days and
nines. Histories tell the great facts, while I only tell of the
minor incidents.
J0NE8B0R0. 189
But on this day of which I now write, we can see in plain
view more than a thousand Yankee battle-flags waving on top
the red earthworks, not more than four hundred yards off.
Every private soldier there knew that General Hood's army
was scattered all the way from Jonesboro to Atlanta, a distance
of twenty-five miles, without, any order, discipline, or spirit to
do anything. We could hear General Stewart, away hack yon-
der in Atlanta, still blowing up arsenals, and smashing things
generally, while Stephen D. Lee was somewhere between Love-
joy Station and Macon, scattering. And here was but a de-
moralized remnant of Cheatham's corps facing the whole Yan-
kee army. I have ever thought that Sherman was a poor
general, not to have captured Hood and his whole army at thai
time. But it matters not what I thought, as I am not trying
to tell the ifs and ands, but only of what I saw. In a word, we
had everything against us. The soldiers distrusted everything.
They were broken down with their long days' hard marching — ■
were almost dead with hunger and fatigue. Every one was tak-
ing his own course, and wishing and praying to be captured.
Hard and senseless inarching, with little sleep, half rations, and
lice, had made their lives a misery. Each one prayed thai all
this foolishness might end one way or the other. It was too
much for human endurance. Every private soldier knew that
such things as this could not last. They were willing to ring
down the curtain, put out the foot-lights and go home. There
was no hope in the future for them.
THEN COMES THE FARCE.
From this time forward until the close of the war, every-
thing was a farce as to generalship. The tragedy had been
played, the glory of war had departed. We all loved Bood; ho
was such a clever fellow, and a good man.
Well, Yank, why don't you come on and take as I We are
ready to play quits now. We have not anything to let you have.
you know; but you can parole us, you know; and we'll go home
and be good boys, you know — good Union boys, you know: and
we'll be sorry for the war, you know; and we wouldn't have the
190 CO. H., FIEST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
negroes in any way, shape, form, or fashion, you know ; and the
American continent has no north, no south, no east, no west —
boohoo, boohoo, boohoo.
Tut, tut, Johnny; all that sounds tolerable nice, but theu
you might want some favor from Uncle Sam, and the teat is too
full of milk at the present time for us to turn loose. It's a
sugar teat, Johnny, and just begins to taste sweet ; and, besides,
Johnny, once or twice you have put us to a little trouble; we
haven't forgot that ; and we've got you down now — our foot is
on your neck, and you must feel our boot heel. We want to
stamp you a little — "that's what's the matter with Hannah."'
And, Johnny, you've fought us hard. You are a brave boy;
you are proud and aristocratic, Johnny, and we are going to
crush your cursed pride and spirit. And now, Johnny, come
here ; I've something to whisper in your ear. Hold your ear
close down here, so that no one can hear: "We want big fat
offices when the war is over. Some of us want to be presidents,
some governors, some go to congress, and be big ministers to
'Urup,' and all those kind of things, Johnny, you know. Just
go back to your camp, Johnny, chase round, put on a bold front,
flourish your trumpets, blow your horns. And, Johnny, we
don't want to be hard on you, and we'll tell you what we'll do
for you. Away back in your territory, between Columbia and
iSTashville, is the most beautiful country, and the most fertile,
and we have lots of rations up there, too. ^Tow, you just go up
there, Johnny, and stay until we want you. We ain't done
with you yet, my boy — O, no, Johnny. And, another thing,
Johnny ; you will find there between Mt. Pleasant and Colum-
bia, the most beautiful country that the sun of heaven ever
shone upon ; and half way between the two places is St. John's
Church. Its tower is all covered over with a beautiful vine of
ivy ; and, Johnny, you know that in olden times it was the cus-
tom to entwine a wreath of ivy around the brows of victorious
generals. We have no doubt that many of your brave generals
will express a wish, when they pass by, to be buried beneath the
ivy vine that shades so gracefully and beautifully the wall of this
grand old church. And, Johnny, von will find a land of beautv
JONESBORO. 191
and plenty, and when you get there, just put on as much style
as you like; just pretend, for our sake, you know, that you are
a bully boy with a glass eye, and that you are the victorious army
that has returned to free an oppressed people. We will allow
you this, Johnny, so that we will be the greater when we want
you, Johnny. And now, Johnny, we did not want to toll you
what we are going to say to you now, but will, so that you'll feel
bad. Sherman wants to 'march to the sea, while the world
looks on and wonders.' TIo wants to desolate the land and burn
up your towns, to show what a coward he is, and how dastardly,
and one of our boys wants to write a piece of poetry about it.
But that ain't all, Johnny. You know that you fellows have
got a great deal of cotton at Augusta, Savannah, Charleston
Mobile, and other places, and cotton is worth two dollars a
pound in gold, and as Christmas is coming, we want to go down
there for some of that cotton to make a Christmas gift to old
Abe and old Clo, don't you see X O, no, Johnny, Ave don't want
to end the war just yet awhile. The sugar is mighty sweet in
the teat, and we want to suck a while longer. Why, sir, we want
to rob and then burn every house in Georgia and South Caro-
lina. We will get millions of dollars by robbery alone, don't
you see
/•'
PxVLMETTO.
"Hark from the tomb that doleful sound.
My ears attend the cry."
General J. B. Hood established his headquarters at Pal-
metto, Georgia, and here is where we were visited by his honor,
the Honorable Jefferson Davis, President of the Confederate
States of America, and the Right Honorable Robert Toombs
secretary of state under the said Davis. Now., kind reader,
don'1 ask me to write history. I know nothing of history. See
the histories for grand movements and military maneuvers. I
can only tell of what I saw and how I felt. I can remember
now General Robert Toombs' and Hon. Jeff Davi<' speeches.
I remember how funny Toombs' speech was. Ho kept us all
laughing, by telling us how quick we wore going to whip the
192 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
Yankees, and how they would skedaddle back across the Ohio
river like a dog with a tin oyster can tied to his tail. Captain
Joe P. Lee and I laughed until our sides hurt us. I can remem-
ber to-day how I felt. I felt that Davis and Toombs had come
there to bring us glad tidings of great joy, and to proclaim to us
that the ratification of a treaty of peace had been declared be-
tween the Confederate States of America and the United States.
I remember how good and happy I felt when these two leading
statesmen told of when grim visaged war would smooth her
wrinkled front, and when the dark clouds that had so long low-
ered o'er our own loved South would be in the deep bosom of the
ocean buried. I do not know how others felt, but I can say
•never before or since did I feel so grand. (I came very near
saying gloomy and peculiar). I felt that I and every other
soldier who had stood the storms of battle for nearly four long
years, were now about to be discharged from hard marches, and
scant rations, and ragged clothes, and standing guard, etc. In
fact, the black cloud of war had indeed drifted away, and the
beautiful stars that gemmed the blue ether above, smiling, said,
"Peace, peace, peace." I felt bully, I tell you. I remember
what I thought — that the emblem of our cause was the Pal-
metto and the Texas Star, and the town of Palmetto, were sym-
bolical of our ultimate triumph, and that we had unconsciously,
nay, I should say, prophetically, fallen upon Palmetto as the
most appropriate place to declare peace between the two sec-
tions. I was sure Jeff Davis and Bob Toombs had come there
for the purpose of receiving the capitulation of and to make
terms with our conquered foes. I knew that in every battle we
had fought, except Missionary Ridge, we had whipped the Yan-
kees, and I knew that we had no cavalry, and but little artillery,
and only two corps of infantry at Missionary Ridge, and from
the way Jeff and Bob talked, it was enough to make us old pri-
vate soldiers feel that swelling of the heart we ne'er should feel
again. I remember that other high dignitaries and big bugs,
then the controlling spirits of the government at Richmond,
visited us, and most all of these high dignitaries shook hands
with the boys. It was all hands round, swing the corner, and
JONESBORO. 193
balance your partner. I shook hands with Hon. Jeff Davis,
and he said howdy, captain; I shook hands with Toombs, and be
said howdy, major; and every big bug that I shook hands with
put another star on my collar and chicken guts on my aleeve.
My pen is inadequate to describe the ecstasy and patriotic feel-
ing that permeated every vein and fiber of my animated being.
It was Paradise regained. All the long struggles we had fol-
lowed the Palmetto flag through victory and defeat, through
storms and rains, and snows and tempest, along the dustj roads,
and on the weary marches, we had been true to our country, our
cause, and our people; and there was a conscious pride within
us that when we would return to our homes, we would go back
as conquerors, and that we would receive the plaudits of our
people — well done, good and faithful servants; you have been
true and faithful even to the end.
JEFF DAVIS MAKES A SPEECH.
■'Sinner come view the ground
Where you shall shortly Be."
I remember, that Hon. Jeff Davis visited the army at this
place, and our regiment, the First Tennessee, serenaded him.
After playing several airs, he came out of General II I'a
marquee, and spoke substantially as follows, as near as I can
remember :
"SOLDIEKS OF THE FlltST TENNESSEE REGIMENT I J
should have said captains, for every man anion- you is tit to ho
a captain. I have heard of your acts of bravery on every battle-
field during the whole war, and "captains,' so far as my wishes
are concerned, I to-day make every man of yon a captain, and 1
say honestly to-day, were I a private soldier, I would have QO
higher abmition on earth than to belong to the First Tennessee
Regiment. You have been loyal and brave; your ranks have
never yet, in the whole history of the war, been broken, even
though the army was routed; yet, my brave soldiers, Tenni
ans all, you have ever remained in your places in the rank- of the
regiment, ever subject to the command of your gallant Col 1
Field in every battle, march, skirmish, in an advance or a re
194 CO. H., FIEST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
treat. There are on the books of the war department at Rich-
mond, the names of a quarter of a million deserters, yet, von.
my brave soldiers, captains all, have remained true and stead-
fast. I have heard that some have been dissatisfied with the
removal of General Joe E. Johnston and the appointment of
General Hood ; but, my brave and gallant heroes, I say, I have
done what I thought best for your good. Soon we commence
our march to Kentucky and Tennessee. Be of good cheer, for
within a short while your faces will be turned homeward, and
your feet will press Tennessee soil, and you will tread your
native heath, amid the blue-grass regions and pastures green of
your native homes. We will flank General Sherman out of
Atlanta, tear up the railroad and cut off his supplies, and make
Atlanta a perfect Moscow of defeat to the Federal army. Sit-
uated as he is in an enemy's country, with his communication?
all cut off, and our army in the rear, he will be powerless, and
being fully posted and cognizant of our position, and of the
Federal army, this movement will be the ultima thule, the grand
crowning stroke for our independence, and the conclusion of
the Avar."
ARMISTICE IN NAME ONLY.
About this time the Yankees sent us a flag of truce, asking
an armistice to move every citizen of Atlanta south of their
lines. It was granted. They wanted to live in fine houses
awhile, and then rob and burn them, and issued orders for all
the citizens of Atlanta to immediately abandon the city. They
wanted Atlanta for themselves, you see.
For weeks and months the roads were filled with loaded
wagons of old and decrepit people, who had been hunted and
hounded from their homes with a relentless cruelty worse, yea,
much worse, than ever blackened the pages of barbaric or sav-
age history. T remember assisting in unloading our wagons
that General Hood, poor fellow, had kindly sent in to bring out
the citizens of Atlanta to a little place called Kough-and-Ready,
about half way between Palmetto and Atlanta. Every day T
would look on at the suffering of delicate ladies, old men, and
JONESBORO. 195
mothers with little children clinging- to them, crying, "O,
mamma, mamma," and old women, and tottering old men, whoa
gray hairs should have protected them from the Bavage acta of
Yankee hate and Puritan barbarity; and I wondered how on
earth our generals, including those who had resigned thai i-
where the shoe pinches — could quietly look <>n at this dark.
black, and damning insult to our people, and not use at leasl
one effort to rescue them from such terrible and unmitigated
cruelty, barbarity, and outrage. General Hood remonstrated
with Sherman against the insult, stating that it "transcended
in studied and ingenious cruelty, all acts ever before broughl
to my attention in the dark history of war."
In the great crisis of the war, Hardee, Kirby Smith, Breck-
inridge, and many brigadiers, resigned, thus throwing all the
responsibility upon poor Hood.*
I desire to state that they left the army on account of rank.
O, this thing of rank !
Many other generals resigned, and left n> privates in the
lurch. But the gallant Cheatham, Cleburne, Cranberry, Gist.
Strahl, Adams, John C. Brown, William B. Bate, Stewart.
Lowery, and others, stuck to us to the last.
The sinews of svar were strained to their utmost tension.
A SCOUT.
At this place I was detailed as a regular scout, which posi-
tion I continued to hold during our stay at Palmetto. It was a
good thing. It bear cam}) guard all hollow. I had answered
"hear" at roll-call ten thousand times in these nearly four years.
But. I had sorter got used to the darn thing.
Xow, reader, I will give you a few chapters on the kind of
fun I had for awhile. Our instructions were simply to try and
find out all we could about the Yankees, and report all move
ments.
One dark, rainy evening, while out as a scout, and, after
*In the Southern armv the question was. who ranked? Not who waa the
best general, or colonel, o'r captain— ton "who ranked?" The article of rank
anally got -town to corporals; and rank Anally banted the government
196 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
traveling all day, I was returning from the Yankee outposts at
Atlanta, and liad captured a Yankee prisoner, who I then had
under my charge, and whom I afterwards carried and delivered
to General Hood. He was a considerable muggins, and a great
coward, in fact, a Yankee deserter. I soon found out that
there was no harm in him, as he was tired of war anyhow, and
was anxious to go to> prison. We went into an old log cabin
near the road until the rain would be over. I was standing in
the cabin door looking at the rain drops fall off the house and
make little bubbles in the drip, and listening to the pattering on
the clapboard roof, when happening to look up, not fifty yards
off, I discovered a regiment of Yankee cavalry approaching. I
knew it would be utterly impossible for me to get away unseen,
and I did not know what to do. The Yankee prisoner was
scared almost to death. I said, "Look, look !" I turned in the
room, and found the planks of the floor were loose. I raised
two of them, and Yank and I slipped through. I replaced the
planks, and could peep out beneath the sill of the house, and see
the legs of the horses. They passed on and did not come to the
old house. They were at least a half hour in passing. At last
the main regiment had all passed, and I saw the rear guard
about to pass, when I heard the captain say, "Go and look in
that old house." Three fellows detached themselves from the
command and came dashing up to the old house. I thought,
"Gone up, sure," as I was afraid the Yankee prisoner would
make his presence known. When the three men came up, they
pushed open the door and looked around, and one fellow said
"Booh!" They then rode off. But that "Booh !" I was sure
I was caught, but I was not.
WHAT IS THIS REBEL DOING HERE
V"
I would go up to the Yankee outpost, and if some popinjay
of a tacky officer didn't come along, we would have a good time.
One morning I was sitting down to eat a good breakfast with
the Yankee outpost. They were cavalry, and they were mighty
clever and pleasant fellows. I looked down the road toward
Atlanta, and not fifty yards from the outpost, I saw a body of
JONESBORO. 197
infantry approaching. T don't know why I didn't run. I
ought to have done so, but didn't. T staid there until this body
of infantry came up. They had come to relieve the cavalry.
It was a detail of negro soldiers, headed by the meanest looking
white man as their captain, I ever saw.
In very abrupt words he told the cavalry that he had come
to take their place, and they were ordered to report back to their
command. Happening to catch sight of me, he asked, "What
is this Rebel doing here?" One of the men spoke up and tried
to say something in my favor, but the more he said the more the
captain of the blacks would get mad. He started toward me two
or three times. He was starting, I could see by the flush of his
face, to take hold of me, anyhow. The cavalrymen tried to
protest, and said a few cuss words. The captain of the blacks
looks back very mad at the cavalry. Here was my opportunity,
now or never. Uncle negro looked on, not seeming to care for
the cavalry, captain, or for me. I took up my gun very gently
and cocked it. I had the gentleman. I had made up my mind
if he advanced one step further, that he was a dead man.
When he turned to look again, it was a look of surprise. His
face was as red as a scalded beet, but in a moment was as white
as a sheet. He was afraid to turn his head to give a command.
The cavalry motioned their hands at me, as much as to say.
"Run, Johnny, run." The captain of the blacks fell upon his
face, and I broke and ran like a quarter-horse. I never saw or
heard any more of the captain of the blacks or his guard after
ward.
"look out,, BOYS."
One night, five of us scouts, I thought all strangers to me,
put up at an old gentleman's house. I took him for a Catholic
priest. His head was shaved and he had on a loose gown like a
lady's dress, and a large cord and tassel tied around his waist,
from which dangled a large bunch of keys. Tie treated Ufl very
kindly and hospitably, so far as words and politeness went, bul
we had to eat our own rations and sleep on our own blankets.
At bedtime, he invited us to sleep in a shed in front of his
198 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
double log cabin. We all went in, lay down, and slept. A lit-
tle while before day, the old priest came in and woke us up, and
said he thought he saw in the moonlight a detachment of cavalry
coming down the road from toward the Rebel lines. One of our
party jumped up and said there was a company of cavalry com-
ing that way, and then all four broke toward the old priest's
room. I jumped up, put on one boot, and holding the other in
my hand, I stepped out in the yard, with my hat and coat off —
both being left in the room. A Yankee captain stepped up to
me and said, "Are you No. 200 ?" I answered very huskily.
"~No, sir, I am not." He then went on in the house, and on
looking at the fence, I saw there was at least two hundred Yan-
kee cavalry right at me. I did not know what to do. My hat,
coat, gun, cartridge-box, and knapsack were all in the room. I
was afraid to stay there, and I was afraid to give the alarm. I
soon saw almost every one of the Yankees dismount, and then I
determined to give the alarm and run. I hallooed out as loud
as I could, "Look out, boys," and broke and run. I had to jump
over a garden picket fence, and as I lit on the other side, bang !
bang! bang! was fired right after me. They stayed there but
a short time, and I went back and got my gun and other accou-
terments.
AM CArTURED.
When I left the old priest's house, it was then good day —
nearly sun up — and I had started back toward our lines, and
had walked on about half a mile, not thinking of danger, when
four Yankees jumped out in the middle of the road and said.
"Halt, there ! O, yes, we've got you at last." I was in for it.
What could I do ? Their guns were cocked and leveled at me.
and if I started to run, I would be shot, so I surrendered. In
a very short time the regiment of Yankee cavalry came up, and
the first greeting I had was, "Hello, you ain't ISTo. 200, are you ?"
T was taken prisoner. They, I thought, seemed to be very
gleeful about it, and I had to march right back by the old priest'-
house, and they carried me to the headquarters of General Ste-
phen Williams. As soon as he saw me, he said, "Who have you
JONESBORO. 199
there — a prisoner, or a deserter '." They said a prisoner. From
what command \ Xo one answered. Finally he asked me what
command I belonged to. I told him the Confederate States
arm}-. Then, said he, "What is your name?" Said I, "Gen-
eral, if that would be any information, ] would have no hesi-
tancy in giving it. But I claim your protection as a prisoner
of war. I am a private soldier in the Confederate State- army,
and I don't feel authorized to answer any question you may
ask." He looked at me with a kind of quizieal look, and 3aid.
"That is the way with you Rebels. I have never yel Been >>\\r of
you, but thought what little information ho mighl possess to In
of value to the Union forces.'' Then one of the men Bpoke up
and said, k4I think he is a spy or a scout, and does not belong i"
the regular army." He then gave me a close look, and said,
"Ah, ah, a guerrilla," and ordered me to be taken to the provosl
marshal's office. They carried me to a large, line house, up-
stairs, and I was politely requested to take a seat. 1 sat then
some moments, when a dandy-looking clerk of a follow came np
with a book in his hand, and said, "The name." I appeared
not to understand, and he said, "The name." I still looked a1
him, and he said, "The name." I did not know what lie meant
by "The name." Finally, he closed the book with a slam and
started off, and said I, "Did you want to find out my name?"
He said, "I asked you three times." I said, "When '. If you
ever asked me my name, I have never heard it." But ho was
too mad to listen to anything else. I was carried to another
room in the same building, and locked np. \ remained then
until about dark, when a man brought mo a tolerably g 1 -up
per, and then left me alone to my own meditations. I could
hear the sentinels at all times of the night calling out the hours.
I did not sleep a wink, nor even lay down. T had made up my
mind to escape, if there was any possible chance. About three
o'clock everything got perfectly still. T wont to the window,
and it had a heavy bolt across it, and I could not open it. I
thought I would try the door, but I knew that a guard was Ra-
tioned in the hall, for I could see a dim light glimmer through
the key-hole. T took my knife and unscrewed the catch in
-00 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
which the lock was fastened, and soon found out that I could
open the door; but then there was the guard, standing at the
main entrance down stairs. I peeped down, and he was quietly
walking to and fro on his beat, every time looking to the hall.
I made up my mind by his measured tread as to how often he
would pass the door, and one time, after he had just passed, I
came out in the hall, and started to run down the steps. About
midway down the steps, one of them cracked very loud, but I
ran on down in the lower hall and ran into a room, the door of
which was open. The sentinel came back to the entrance of the
hall, and listened a few minutes, and then moved on again. I
went to the window and raised the sash, but the blind was fast-
ened with a kind of patent catch. I gave one or two hard
pushes, and felt it move. After that I made one big lunge, and
it flew wide open, but it made a noise that woke up every senti-
nel. I jumped out in the yard, and gained the street, and, on
looking back, I heard the alarm given, and lights began to glim
mer everywhere, but, seeing no one directly after me, I made
tracks toward Peachtree creek, and went on until I came to the
old battlefield of July 22nd, and made my way back to our lines.
ADVANCE INTO TENNESSEE. 201
CHAPTER XV.— ADVANCE I\"T<> TENNESSEE.
GENERAL HOOD MAKES A PLANK MOVEMENT.
After remaining a good long time nt Jonesboro, the news
came that we were going to flank Atlanta. We flanked it. A
flank means "a go around."
Yank says, "What you doing, Johnny?"
Johnny says, "We are flanking."
Yank says, "Bully for yon!"
We passed around Atlanta, crossed the Chattahoochee, and
traveled back over the same route on which we had made the
arduous campaign under Joe Johnston. It took us four months
in the first instance, and hut little longer than as many days in
the second, to get back to Dalton, our starting point. On our
way up there, the Yankee cavalry followed us to see how we
were getting along with the flanking business. We had pon-
toons made for the purpose of crossing streams. When we would
get to a stream, the pontoons would be thrown across, and
Hood's army would cross. Yank would halloo over and Bay,
"Well, Johnny, have you got everything across \" "Yes," would
he the answer. "Well, we want these old pontoons, as you will
not need them again." And they would take them.
We passed all those glorious battlefields, that have been
made classic in history, frequently coming across the skull of
some poor fellow sitting <m top of a stump, grinning a ghastly
smile; also the bones of horses along the road, and fences burned
and destroyed, and occasionally the charred remains of a once
fine dwelling house. Outside of these occasional reminders we
could see no evidence of the desolation of the track of an invad-
ing army. The country looked like it did at first. Citizens
came out, and seemed glad to see us, and would divide their
onions, garlic, ami leek with us. The BOldiera were in good
spirits, but it was the spirit of innocence and peace, not war and
victor v.
202
CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
Where the railroads -would cross a river, a block-house had
been erected, and the bridge was guarded by a company of Fed
erals. But we always flanked these little affairs. We wanted
bigger and better meat.
WE CAPTURE DALTON.
When we arrived at Dalton, we had a desire to see how the'
old place looked ; not that we cared anything about it, but we
just wanted to take a last farewell look at the old place. We
saw the United States flag flying from the ramparts, and thought
that Yank would probably be asleep or catching lice, or may be
engaged in a game of seven-lip. So we sent forward a physi-
cian with some white bandages tied to the end of a long pole.
He walked up and says, "Hello, boys !" "What is it, boss ?"
"Well, boys, we've come for you." "Hyah, ha ; hyah, ha ; hyah,
ha ; a hee, he, he, he ; if it ain't old master, sho." The place
wras guarded by negro troops. We marched the black rascals
out. They were mighty glad to see us, and we were kindly dis-
posed to them. We said, "JSTow, boys, we don't want the Yan-
kees to get mad at you, and to blame you ; so, just let's get out
here on the railroad track, and tear it up, and pile up the cross-
ties, and then pile the iron on top of them, and we'll set the thing
a-fire, and when the Yankees come back they will say, 'What a
bully fight them narjers did make.' ' (A Yankee always says
"nager"). Reader, you should have seen how that old railroad
did flop over, and how the darkies did sweat, and how the per-
fume did fill the atmosphere.
But there were some Yankee soldiers in a block-house at
Ringgold Gap, who thought they would act big. They said
that Sherman had told them not to come out of that block-house,
any how. But General William B. Bate begun to persuade the
gentlemen, by sending a few four-pound parrot "feelers." Ah !
those feelers!
They persuaded eloquently. They persuaded effectually—
those feelers did. The Yanks soon surrendered. The old place
looked natural like, only it seemed to have a sort of grave-yard
loneliness ahout it.
ADVANCE INTO TENNESSEE. 203
A MAX EM THE WELL.
On leaving Dalton, after a day's march, we had Btopped for
the night. Our guns were stacked, and I started off with a
comrade to get some wood to cook supper with. We were walk-
ing along, he a little in the rear, when he suddenly disappeared.
I could not imagine what had become of him. I looked every-
where. The earth seemed to have opened and swallowed him.
I called, and called, but could get no answer. Presently I
heard a groan that seemed to come out of the bowels of the earth ;
but, as yet, I could not make out where he was. Going hack to
camp, I procured a light, and after whooping and hallooing for
a long time, I heard another groan, this time much louder than
before. The voice appeared to be overhead. There was no tree
or house to be seen; and then again the voice seemed to answei
from under the ground, in a hollow, sepulchral tone, hut 1 could
not tell where he was. But I was determined to find him, so T
kept on hallooing and he answering. I went to the place where
the voice appeared to come out of the earth. I was walking
along rather thoughtlessly and carelessly, when one inch more
and I would have disappeared also. Right before me I saw the
long dry grass all bending toward a. common center, and 1 knew
that it was an old well, and that my comrade had fallen in it.
But how to get him out was the unsolved problem. I ran hack
to camp to get assistance, and everybody had a great curiosity to
see "the man in the well." They would get chunks of tire and
shake over the well, and, peeping down, would say, "Well, he's
in there," and go off, and others would come and talk about hie
"being in there." The poor fellow staid in that well all night.
The next morning we got a long rope from a battery and lei it
down in the well, and soon had him on terra firma. lie was
worse scared than hurt.
TUSCUMl'.IA.
We arrived and remained at Tuscumbia several days, await-
ing the laying of the pontoons across the Tennessee river at
Florence, Alabama, and then we all crossed over. While at
Tuscumbia, .John Branch and I saw a nice sweet potato patch,
204 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
that looked very tempting to a hungry Rebel. We looked all
around, and thought that the coast was clear. We jumped over
the fence, and commenced grabbling for the sweet potatoes. I
had got my haversack full, and had started off, when we heard,
"Halt, there." I looked around, and there was a soldier guard.
We broke and run like quarter-horses, and the guard pulled
down on us just as we jumped the fence. I don't think his gun
was loaded, though, because we did not hear the ball whistle.
We marched from Decatur to Florence. Here the pontoon
bridges were nicely and beautifully stretched across the river.
We walked over this floating bridge, and soon found ourselves
on the Tennessee side of Tennessee river.
In driving a grat herd of cattle across the pontoon, the
front one got stubborn, and the others, crowding up all in one
bulk, broke the line that held the pontoon, and drowned many
of the drove. We had beef for supper that night.
EN ROUTE FOR COLUMBIA.
"And nightly we pitch our moving tent
A day's march nearer home."
How every pulse did beat and leap, and how every heart
did throb with emotions of joy, which seemed nearly akin to
heaven, when we received the glad intelligence of our onward
march toward the land of promise, and of our loved ones. The
cold ^November winds coming off the mountains of the north-
west were blowing right in our faces, and nearly cutting us in
two.
We were inured to privations and hardships ; had been upon
every march, in every battle, in every skirmish, in every ad-
vance, in every retreat, in every victory, in every defeat. We
had laid under the burning heat of a tropical sun; had made
the cold, frozen earth our bed, with no covering save the blue
canopy of heaven ; had braved dangers, had breasted floods ;
had seen our comrades slain upon our right and our left hand;
had heard guns that carried death in their missiles; had heard
the shouts of the charge; had seen the enemy in full retreat and
flying in every direction; had heard the shrieks and groans of
ADVANCE INTO TENNESSEE. 21*.")
the wounded and dying; had seen the blood of our countrymen
dyeing the earth and enriching the soil; had been hungry when
there was nothing to eat ; had been in rags and tatters. We bad
marked the frozen earth with bloody and unshod feet; had been
elated with victory and crushed by defeat; had Been and fell
the pleasure of the life of a soldier, and had drank the cup to ita
dregs. Yes, we had seen it all, and had shared in its hopes and
its fears; its love and its hate; its good and its had: its virtin
and its vice; its glories and its shame. We had followed the
successes and reverses of the flag of the Lost Cause through all
these years of blood and strife.
I was simply one of hundreds of thousands in the same fix.
The tale is the same that every soldier would tell, except dim
Whitler. Jim had dodged about, and had escaped being con-
scripted until "Hood's raid," he called it. Hood's army was
taking up every able-bodied man and conscripting him into the
army. Jim Whitler had got a position as overseer on a Large
plantation, and had about, a hundred negroes under his surveil-
lance. The army had been passing a given point, and Jim wa.-
sitting quietly on the fence looking at the soldiers. The eon-
scripting squad nabbed him. Jim tried to beg off, bul all
entreaty was in vain. He wanted to go by home and tell his
wife and children good-bye, and to get his clothes. Tt was no
go. But, after awhile, Jim says, "Gentlemen, ay, Ganny. the
law!" You see, Jim "knowed" the law. He didn't know B
from a bull's foot in the spelling-book. But he said, flic lair.
Now, when anyone says anything about the "law," every one
stops to listen. Jim says, "Ah, Ganny, the law" — ( laving great
stress upon the law) — "allows every man who has twenty negroi -
to stay at home. Ah, Ganny!" Those old soldiers had Ion-.
long ago, forgotten about that old "law" of the long gone past ;
but Jim had treasured it up in his memory, lo ! these many
years, and he thought it would serve him now, as it had. no
doubt, frequently done in the past. The conscript officer said,
''Law or no law — you fall into line, take this gun and cartridge
box, and march!" Jim's spirits sank; his hopes vanished into
air. Jim was soon in line, and was tramping to the music "I
206 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
the inarch. He stayed with the company two days. The third
day it was reported that the Yankees had taken position on the
Murfreesboro pike. A regiment was sent to the attack. It was
Jim's regiment. He advanced bravely into battle. The min-
nie balls began to whistle around his ears. The regiment was
ordered to fire. He hadn't seen anything to shoot at, but he
blazed away. He loaded and fired the second time, when they
were ordered to retreat. He didn't see anything to run from,
but the other soldiers began to run, and Jim run, too. Jim had
not learned the word "halt!" and just kept on running. He
run, and he run, and he run, and he kept on running until he
got home, when he jumped in his door and shouted, "Whoopee,
Rhoda ! Aye, Ganny, I've served four years in the Rebel army."
CHAPTER XVI.— BATTLES IN TEXXESSEE.
COLUMBIA.
"This is my own, my native land."
Once more the Maury Grays are permitted to put their
feet upon their native heath, and to revisit their homes and
friends, after having followed their tattered, and torn, and bat-
tle-riddled flag, which they had borne aloft for four long years,
on every march, and in every battle that had been fought by the
Army of Tennessee. We were a mere handful of devoted
braves, who had stood by our colors when sometimes it seemed
that God himself had forsaken us. But, parents, here are your
noble and brave sons; and, ladies, four years ago you gave us
this flag, and we promised you "That we would come back with
the flaa; as victors, or we would come not at all." We have been
BATTLES IN TENNESSEE. 207
true to our promise and our trust. On every battlefield the flag
that you entrusted to our hands has been borne aloft by brave
and heroic men, amid shot and shell, hi ly battle, and death.
We have never forsaken our colors. Are we worth} to be called
the sons of old Maury county? Or have we fought in rain?
Have our efforts been appreciated, or have four years of our
lives been wasted, while we were battling for constitutional gov
eminent, the supremacy of our laws over centralization, and
our rights, as guaranteed to us by the blood of our forefathers
on the battlefields of the Revolution '. It is for you to make up
your verdict. If our lives as soldiers have heen a failure, w<
can but bow our heads on our bosoms, and say, "Surely, foui
years of our lives have been given for naught, and our efforts
to please you have been in vain."
Yet, the invader's foot is still on our soil, but there beats
in our bosoms the blood of brave and patriotic men, and we will
continue to follow our old and war-worn and battle-riddled flag
until it goes down forever.
The Maury Grays, commanded by Captain A. M. Looney,
left Columbia, four years ago, with 120 men. Hew many of
those 120 original members are with the company today i .1 iisl
twelve. Company H has twenty members, but some of this
number had subsequently enlisted. But we twelve will stiek
to our colors till she goes down forever, and until five more oi
this number fall dead and bleeding on the battlefield.
A FIASCO.
When we arrived in sight of Columbia, we found the Tan
kees still in possession of the town, fortified and determined to
resist our advance. We send forward a ••feeler." and the
"feeler"' reports hack very promptly, "Yea, the Yankees are
there." Well, if that be the case, we'll just make a flank move-
ment. We turn off the main turnpike at J. E. "R. Carpenter'-,
and march through the cedars, and cross Duck river at Davis'
ferry, on pontoon bridges, near Lowell'- mill. We pass on,
and cross Rutherford creek, near Burick's null, about three
o'clock in the afternoon. We had marched through fields in
208 CO. Hv FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
the heavy mud, and the men, weary and worn out, were jusi
dragging themselves along, passing by the old Union Seminary,
and then by Mr. Fred Thompson's, until we came to the Rally
Hill turnpike — it being then nearly dark — we heard some skir-
mishing, but, exhausted as we were, we went into bivouac. The
Yankees, it seems to me, might have captured the whole of us.
But that is a matter of history. But I desire to state that no
blunder was made by either Generals Cheatham or Stewart.
neither of whom ever failed to come to time. Jeff Davis is
alone responsible for the blunder. About two hours after sun
up the next morning we received the order to ''Fall in, fall in,
quick, make haste, hurrah, promptly, men ; each rank count
two ; by the right flank, quick time, march ; keep promptly
closed up." Everything indicated an immediate attack. When
we got to the turnpike near Spring Hill, lo ! and behold ! won-
der of wonders ! the whole Yankee army had passed during the
night. The bird had flown. We make a quick and rapid march
down the turnpike, finding Yankee guns and knapsacks, and
now and then a broken down straggler, also two pieces of how-
itzer cannon, and at least twenty broken wagons along the road.
Everything betokened a rout, and a stampede of the Yankee
army. Double quick ! Forrest is in the rear. Now for fun.
All that we want to do now is to catch the blue-coated rascals,
ha ! ha ! We all want to see the surrender, ha ! ha ! Double
quick! A rip, rip, rip; wheuf; pant, pant, pant. First one
man drops out, and then another. The Yankees are routed and
running, and Forrest has crossed Harpeth river in the rear of
Franklin. Hurrah, men ! keep closed up ; we are going to cap-
ture Schofield. Forrest is in the rear ; never mind the straggler
and cannon. Kerflop we come against the breastworks at
Franklin.
FRANKLIN.
"The death-angel gathers its last harvest."
Kind reader, right here my pen, and courage, and ability
fail me. I shrink from butchery. Would to God I could tear
the page from these memoirs and from my own memory. It
BATTLES IN TENNESSEE. 209
is the blackest page in the history of the war of the Loel I lause.
It was the bloodiest battle of modern times in any war. I? was
the finishing stroke to the independence of the Southern Con
federacy. I was there. I saw it. My flesh trembles, and
creeps, and crawls when I think of it to-day. My heart almost
ceases to beat at the horrid recollection. Would to God thai I
had never witnessed such a scene !
I cannot describe it. It beggars description. I will noi
attempt to describe it. 1 could not. The death-ange] was there
to gather its last harvest. It was the grand coronation of death.
Would that I could turn the page. But I feel, though 1 did bo,
that page would still be there, teeming with its scenes of horroi
and blood. I can only tell of what I saw.
Our regiment was resting in the gap of a range of hills in
plain view of the city of Franklin. We could see the battle-
flags of the enemy waving in the breeze. Our army had been
depleted of its strength by a forced march from Spring Hill.
and stragglers lined the road. Our artillery had not yet conic
up, and could not be brought into action. Our cavalry was
across Harpeth river, and our army wras but in poor condition to
make an assault. While resting on this hill-side, I saw a cou-
rier dash up to our commanding general, B. F. Cheatham, and
the word, u Attention !" was given. I knew then that we would
soon be in action. Forward, march. We passed over the hill
and through a little skirt of woods.
The enemy were fortified right across the Franklin pike,
in the suburbs of the town. Bight, here in these woods a detail
of skirmishers was called for. Our regiment was detailed.
We deployed as skirmishers, firing as we advanced on the left oJ
the turnpike road. Tf T had not been a skirmisher on that day.
T would not have been writing this to-day, in the year of our
Lord 1832.
It was four o'clock on that dark and dismal December day
when the line of battle was formed, and those devoted heroes
were ordered forward, to
•strike fur their altars and their tins.
For the green graves of their sires,
For God and their native lain].'"
210 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
As they marched on down through an open field toward the
rampart of blood and death, the Federal batteries began to open
and mow down and gather into the garner of death, as brave
and good, and pure spirits as the world ever saw. The twi-
light of evening had begun to gather as a precursor of the com-
ing blackness of midnight darkness that was to envelop a scene
so sickening and horrible that it is impossible for me to describe
it. "Forward, men," is repeated all along the line. A sheet of
fire was poured into our very faces, and for a moment we halted
as if in despair, as the terrible avalanche of shot and shell laid
•low those brave and gallant heroes, whose bleeding wounds at-
tested that the struggle would be desperate. Forward, men !
The air loaded with death-dealing missiles. Never on this earth
did men fight against such terrible odds. It seemed that the
very elements of heaven and earth were in one mighty uproar.
Forward, men ! And the blood spurts in a perfect jet from
the dead and wounded. The earth is red with blood. It runs
in streams, making little rivulets as it flows. Occasionally there
was a little lull in the storm of battle, as the men were loading
their guns, and for a few moments it seemed as if night tried to
cover the scene with her mantle. The death-angel shrieks and
laughs and old Father Time is busy with his sickle, as he gathers
in the last harvest of death, crying, More, more, more ! while his
rapacious maw is glutted with the slain.
But the skirmish line being deployed out, extending a little
wider than the battle did — passing through a thicket of small
locusts, where Brown, orderly sergeant of Company B, was
killed — we advanced on toward the breastworks, on and on. I
had made up my mind to die — felt glorious. We pressed for-
ward until I heard the terrific roar of battle open on our right.
( 'leburne's division was charging their works. I passed on un-
til I got to their works, and got over on their (the Yankees') side.
But in fifty yards of where I was the scene was lit up by fires
that seemed like hell itself. It appeared to be but one line of
streaming fire. Our troops were upon one side of the breast-
works, and the Federals on the other. I ran up on the line of
works, where our men were engaged. Dead soldiers filled the
BATTLES IN TENNESSEE. 211
entrenchments. The firing- Was kept up until after midnight.
and gradually died out. We passed the night where we were.
But when the morrow's sun began to light up the eastern >k\
with its rosy hues, and we looked over the battlefield, 0, my
God! what did we see! It was a grand holocausl of death.
Death had held high carnival there that night. The dead were
piled the one on the other all over the ground. I never was -<
horrified and appalled in my life. Horses, like men. had died
game on the gory breastworks. General Adam-' borse had bis
fore feet on one side of the works and his hind feet on the other
dead. The general seems to have been caught so that he was
held to the horse's back, sitting- almost as if living, riddled, and
mangled, and torn with balls. General Cleburne's mare had her
fore feet on top of the works, dead in that position. General
Cleburne's body was pierced with forty-nine bullets, through
and through. General Strahl's horse lay by the roadside and
the general by his side, both dead, and all his staff. General
Gist, a noble and brave cavalier from South Carolina, was lying
witli his sword reaching across the breastworks still grasped in
his hand. He was lying there dead. All dead! They Bleep
in the graveyard yonder at Ashwood, almost in sight of my
home, Avhere I am writing today. They sleep the sleep of tin
brave. We love and cherish their memory. They Bleep be-
neath the ivy-mantled walls of St. John's church, where they
expressed a wish to be buried. The private soldier sleeps where
he fell, piled in one mighty heap. Four thousand five hundred
privates! all lying side by side in death! Thirteen generals
were killed and wounded. Four thousand five hundred men
slain, all piled and heaped together at one place. I cannot tell
the number of others killed and wounded. God alone know*
that. We'll all find out on the morning of the final resurrec
tion.
Kind friends, T have attempted in my poor and feeble way
to tell you of this (I can hardly call it) battle. It should be
called by some other name. But, like all other battles, it, too.
has gone into history. I leave it with you. I do not know who
was to blame. Tt lives in the memory of the poor old Rebel
212
CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
soldier who went through that trying and terrible ordeal. We
shed a tear for the dead. They are buried and forgotten. We
meet no more on earth. But up yonder, beyond the sunset and
the night, away beyond the clouds and tempest, away beyond
the stars that ever twinkle and shine in the blue vault above us,
away yonder by the great white throne, and by the river of life,
where the Almighty and Eternal God sits, surrounded by the
angels and archangels and the redeemed of earth, we will meet
again and see those noble and brave spirits who gave up their
lives for their country's cause that night at Franklin, Tennessee.
A life given for one's country is never lost. It blooms again
beyond the grave in a land of beauty and of love. Hanging
around the throne of sapphire and gold, a rich garland awaits
the coming of him who died for his country, and when the horo-
loge of time has struck its last note upon his dying brow, Justice
hands the record of life to Mercy, and Mercy pleads with Jesus,
and God, for his sake, receives him in his eternal home beyond
the skies at last and forever.
NASHVILLE.
A few more scenes, my dear friends, and we close these
memoirs. We march toward the city of Nashville. We camp
the first night at Brentwood. The next day we can see the fine
old building of solid granite, looming up on Capitol Hill — the
capitol of Tennessee. We can see the Stars and Stripes flying
from the dome. Our pulse leaps with pride when we see the
grand old architecture. We can hear the bugle call, and the
playing of the bands of the different regiments in the Federal
lines. Now and then a shell is thrown into our midst from
Fort Negley, but no attack or demonstrations on either side.
We bivouac on the cold and hard-frozen ground, and when we
walk about, the echo of our footsteps sound like the echo of a
tombstone. The earth is crusted with snow, and the wind from
the northwest is piercing our very bones. We can see our
ragged soldiers, with sunken cheeks and famine-glistening eyes.
Where were our generals ? Alas ! there were none. Not one
single general out of Cheatham's division was left — not one.
BATTLES IN TENNESSEE. '21 3
General B. I\ Cheatham himself was the only surviving general
of his old division. Nearly all onr captains and colonels were
gone. Companies mingled with companies, regiments with reg;
iments, and brigades with brigades. A few raw-boned horses
stood shivering under the ice-covered trees, nibbling the short,
scanty grass. Being in range of the Federal guns from Fort
Negley, we were not allowed to have fires at night, and our thin
and ragged blankets were but poor protection against the cold,
raw blasts of December weather — the coldest ever known. The
cold stars seem to twinkle with unusual brilliancy, and the pale
moon seems to be but one vast heap of frozen snow, which glim-
mers in the cold gray sky, and the air gets colder by its coining;
our breath, forming in little rays, seems to make a thousand lit-
tle coruscations that scintillate in the cold frosty air. I can tell
you nothing of what was going on among the generals. But
there we were, and that is all that I can tell you. One morning
about daylight our army began to move. Our division was then
on the extreme right wing, and then we were transferred to tht
left wing. The battle had begun. We were continually mov-
ing to our left. We would build little temporary breastworks,
then we would be moved to another place. Our lines kept on
widening out, and stretching further and further apart, until it
was not more than a skeleton of a skirmish line from one end to
the other. We started at a run. We cared for nothing. Not
more than a thousand yards off, we could see the Yankee cavalry,
artillery, and infantry, marching apparently still further to out
left. We could see regiments advancing at double-quick across
the fields, while, with our army, everything seemed fined.
The private soldier could not see into things. It Beemed to be
somewhat like a flock of wild geese when they have Losl their
leader. We were willing to go anywhere, or to follow anyone
who would lead us. We were anxious to flee, fight, or fortify.
T have never seen an army so confused and demoralized. The
whole thing seemed to be tottering and trembling. When,
Halt! Front! Right dress! and Adjutant McKinnev reads ti-
the following order :
•'Soldiers:— The commanding general takes pleasure in
announcing to his troops that victory and success are now within
214 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE EEGIMENT.
their grasp ; and the commanding general feels prond and grati-
fied that in every attack and assault the enemy have been re-
pulsed ; and the commanding general will further say to his
noble and gallant troops, 'Be of good cheer — all is well."
"General John B. Hood,
''Kinlock Falconer, ''General Commanding.
"Acting Adjutant-General."
I remember how this order was received. Every soldier
said, "O, shucks ; that is all shenanigan," for we knew that we
had never met the enemy or fired a gun outside of a little skir-
mishing. And I will further state that that battle order, an-
nouncing success and victory, was the cause of a greater demor-
alization than if our troops had been actually engaged in battle.
They at once mistrusted General Hood's judgment as a com-
mander. And every private soldier in the whole army knew
the situation of affairs. I remember when passing by Hood,
how feeble and decrepit he looked, with an arm in a sling, and a
crutch in the other hand, and trying to guide and control his
horse. And, reader, I was not a Christian then, and am but
little better to-day ; but, as God sees my heart to-night, I prayed
in my heart that day for General Hood. Poor fellow, I loved
him, not as a General, but as a good man. I knew when that
army order was read, that General Hood had been deceived, and
tli at the poor fellow was only trying to encourage his men.
Every impulse of his nature was but to do good, and to serve his
country as best he could. Ah ! reader, some day all will be well.
We continued marching toward our left, our battle-line
getting thinner and thinner. We could see the Federals ad-
vancing, their blue coats and banners flying, and could see
their movements and hear them giving their commands. Our
regiment was ordered to double quick to the extreme left
wing of the army, and we had to pass up a steep hill, and
the dead grass was wet and as slick as glass, and it was with
the greatest difficulty that we could get up the steep hill
side. When we got to the top, we, as skirmishers, were ordered
to deploy still further to the left. Billy Carr and J. E. Jones,
two as brave soldiers as ever breathed the breath of life — in fact,
BATTLES IN TENNESSEE. 215
it was given up that they were the bravesl and most daring men
in the Army of Tennessee — and myself, were on the v. ty ex-
treme left wing of our army. While we were deployed as
skirmishers, I heard, "Surrender, surrender," and on Looking
around us, I saw that we were right in the midst of a Yankee
line of battle. They were lying down in the bushes, and we
were not looking for them so close to us. We immediately
threw down our guns and surrendered. .1. E. Jones was killed
at the first discharge of their guns, when another Yankee raised
up and took deliberate aim at Billy Carr, and fired, the ball
striking him below the eye and passing through his head. A-
soon as I could, I picked up my gun, and as the Yankee turned
I sent a minnie hall crushing through his head, and broke and
run. But I am certain that I killed the Yankee who killed
Billy Carr, but it was too late to save the poor boy's life. A- !
started to run, a fallen dogwood tree tripped me up, and I fell
over the log. It was all that saved me. The log was riddled
with balls, and thousands, it seemed to me, passed over it. A-
I got up to run again, I was shot through the middle finger of
the very hand that is now penning these lines, and the thigh.
But I had just killed a Yankee, and was determined to get
away from there as soon as I could. How I did get back T
hardly know, for 1 was wounded and surrounded by Yankees.
One rushed forward, and placing the muzzle of his gun in two
feet of me, discharged it, but it missed its aim, when T ran at
him, grabbed him by the collar, and brought him off a prisoner
Captain Joe P. Lee and Colonel II. R. Field remember tin-, as
would Lieutenant-Colonel John L. House, were he alive: ami
all the balance of Company 11, who were there at the time. I
had eight bullet holes in my coat, and two in my hand, beside
the one in my thigh and finger. It was a hail storm of bullets.
The above is true in every particular, and i- but one incident of
the war, which happened to hundreds of others. But, alas! all
our valor and victories were in vain, when God and the whole
world were against us.
Billy Carr was one of the bravesl and besl men 1 ever
knew. lie never knew what fear was, and in consequence of
216 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
his reckless bravery, bad been badly wounded at Perryvilie.
Murfreesboro, Chickamauga, tbe octagon house, Dead Angle,
and the 22nd of July at Atlanta. In every battle he was
wounded, and finally, in the very last battle of the war, surren-
dered up his life for his country's cause. No father and mother
of such a brave and gallant boy, should ever sorrow or regret
having born to them such a son. He was the flower and chiv-
alry of his company. He was as good as he was brave. His
bones rest yonder on the Overton hills to-day, while I have no
doubt in my own mind that his spirit is with the Redeemer of
the hosts of heaven. He was my friend. Poor boy, farewell !
When I got back to where I could see our lines, it was one
scene of confusion and rout. Finney's Florida brigade had
broken before a mere skirmish line, and soon the whole army
had caught the infection, had broken, and were running in every
direction. Such a scene I never saw. The army was panic-
stricken. The woods everywhere were full of running soldiers.
Our officers were crying, "Halt ! halt !" and trying to rally and
re-form their broken ranks. The Federals would dash their
cavalry in amongst us, and even their cannon joined in the
charge. One piece of Yankee artillery galloped past me, right
on the road, unlimbered their gun, fired a few shots, and galloped
ahead again.
Hood's whole army was routed and in full retreat. Nearly
every man in the entire army had thrown away his gun and
accouterments. More than ten thousand had stopped and al-
lowed themselves to be captured, while many, dreading the hor-
rors of a Northern prison, kept on, and I saw many, yea, even
thousands, broken down from sheer exhaustion, with despair
and pity written on their features. "Wagon trains, cannon,
artillery, cavalry, and infantry were all blended in inextricable
confusion. Broken down and jaded horses and mules refused
to pull, and the badly-scared drivers looked like their eyes would
pop out of their heads from fright. Wagon wheels, interlock-
ing each other, soon clogged the road, and wagons, horses and
provisions were left indiscriminately. The officers soon became
effected with the demoralization of their troops, and rode on in
BATTLES IN TENNESSKK. 217
dogged indifference. General Frank Cheatham and General
Loring tried to form a line at Brentwood, bul the line they
forme<l was like trying to stop the current of Duck river with a
fish net. I believe the army would have rallied, had there been
any color- to rally to. And as the straggling army moves OH
down the road, every now and then we can hear the sullen roar
of the Federal artillery booming in the distance. I saw a
wagon and team abandoned, and 1 unhitched one of the horses
and rode on horse-back to Franklin, where a surgeon tied up my
broken finger, and bandaged up my bleeding thigh. My hoot
was full of blood, and my clothing saturated with it. 1 was :it
General Hood's headquarters, lie was much agitated and af-
fected, pulling his hair with his one hand (he had but one).
and crying like his heart would break. I pitied him. poor fel-
low. I asked him for a wounded furlough, and he gave it to
me. I never saw him afterward. I always Loved and honored
him, and will ever revere and cherish his memory, lb' izave
his life in the service of his country, and I know to-day he wears
a garland of glory beyond the -rave, where Justice says "well
done," and Mercy has erased all his errors and faults.
I only write of the under strata of history ; in other words,
the privates' history — as I saw things then, and remember them
now.
The winter of 1864- ~> was the coldest that had been known
for many years. The ground was frozen and rough, and our
soldiers were poorly (dad. while many, yes, very many, were
entirely barefooted. Our wagon trains had either gone on, we
knew nor. whither, or had been left behind. Everything and
nature, too, seemed to be working against us. Even the keen,
cutting air that whistled through our tattered clothes and oveT
our poorly covered heads, seemed to lash us in its fury. '1 he
floods of wafers that had overflowed their banks, seemed to laugh
at our calamity, and to mock us in our misfortunes.
All along the route were weary and footsore soldiers. The
citizens seemed to shrink and hide from as a- we approached
them. And, to cap the climax, Tennessee river was overflow-
ing ir- banks, ami several Federal gunboats were anchored just
3sel Shoals, firing at us while crossing.
218 CO. H., FIKST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
The once proud Army of Tennessee had degenerated to a
mob. We were pinched by hunger and cold. The rains, and
sleet, and snow never ceased falling from the winter sky, while
the winds pierced the old, ragged, grayback Rebel soldier to his
very marrow. The clothing of many were hanging around
them in shreds of rags and tatters, while an old slouched hat
covered their frozen ears. Some were on old, raw-boned horses,
without saddles.
Hon. Jefferson Davis perhaps made blunders and mistakes,
but I honestly believe that he ever did what he thought best for
the good of his country. And there never lived on this earth.
/ ; from the days of Hampden to George Washington, a purer
patriot or a nobler man than Jefferson Davis ; and, like Marius,
grand even in ruins.
Hood was a good man, a kind man, a philanthropic man.
but he is both harmless and defenseless now. He was a poor
general in the capacity of commander-in-chief. Had he been
mentally qualified, his physical condition would have disquali-
fied him. His legs and one of his arms had been shot off in the
defense of his country. As a soldier,. he was brave, good, noble,
and gallant, and fought with the ferociousness of the wounded
tiger, and with the everlasting grit of the bull-dog: but as a
general he was a failure in every particular.
Our country is gone, our cause is lost. "Actum est de Re-
publico,"
THE SURRENDER. 219
CHAPTER XVIL— THE SURRENDER.
THE LAST ACT OF T]IK DHAMA.
On the 10th day of May, 1861, our regiment, the First
Tennessee, left Nashville for the camp of instruction, with
twelve hundred and fifty men, officers and line. Other recruits
continually coming in swelled this number to fourteen hundred.
In addition to this, .Major Fulcher's battalion of four companies
with four hundred men (originally), was afterwards attached
to the regiment; and the Twenty-seventh Tennessee Kegimcnt
was afterwards consolidated with the First. And besides this,
there were about two hundred conscripts added to the regiment
from time to time. To recapitulate: The First Tennessee
numbering originally, 1,250; recruited from time to time, L50;
Fuleher's battalion, 400; the Twenty-seventh Tennessee, L,200 ;
number of conscripts (at the lowest estimate), 200 — making tin
sum total 3,200 men that belonged to our regiment during the
war. The above I think a low estimate. Well, on the 26th
day of April, 1865, General Joe E. Johnston surrendered his
army at Greensboro, North Carolina. The day that we
surrendered our regiment it, was a pitiful sight to behold. It'
I remember correctly, there were just sixty-five men in all, in-
cluding officers, that were paroled on that day. Now, what
became of the original :},200? A grand army, you may say.
Three thousand two hundred men! Only sixty-five left I Now
reader, you may draw your own conclusions. It lacked just
four days of four years from the day we wen- BWOrn in to the
day of the surrender, and it was just four years and twenty-
four days from the time that we left home for the army to tin
time that we got hack again. It was indeed B sad sight to look
at. the old First Tennessee Regiment A men- squad of nobl<
and brave men. gathered around the tattered flag thai they had
followed in every battle through that long war. It was BO bul
let-riddled and torn that it was but a few blue and red Bhreds
220 CO. H.., FIKST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
that hung drooping while it, too, was stacked with our guns
forever.
Thermopylae had one messenger of defeat, but when Gen-
eral Joe E. Johnston surrendered the Army of the South there
were hundreds of regiments, yea, I might safely say thousands,
that, had not a representative on the 26th day of April, 1865.
Our cause was lost from the beginning. Our greatest vic-
tories— Chickamauga and Franklin — were our greatest defeats.
Our people were divided upon the question of Union and seces-
sion. Our generals were scrambling for ''Who ranked/' The
private soldier fought and starved and died for naught. Our
hospitals were crowded with sick and wounded, but half pro-
vided with food and clothing to sustain life. Our money was
depreciated to naught and our cause lost. We left our homes
four years previous. Amid the waving of flags and handker-
chiefs and the smiles of the ladies, while the fife and drum were
playing Dixie and the Bonnie Blue Flag, we bid farewell to
home and friends. The bones of our brave Southern boys lie
scattered over our loved South. They fought for their "coun-
try" and gave their lives freely for that country's cause; and
now they who survive sit, like Marius amid the wreck of Car-
thage, sublime even in ruins. Other pens abler than mine will
have to chronicle their glorious deeds of valor and devotion,
in these sketches I have named but a few persons who fought
side by side with me during that long and unholy war. In
looking back over these pages, I ask, Where now are many whose
names have appeared in these sketches? They are up yonder,
and are no doubt waiting and watching for those of us who are
left behind. And, my kind reader, the time is coming when
we, ioo, will be called, while the archangel of death is beating
the long roll of eternity, and with us it will be the last reveille.
(Jod Himself will sound the "assembly" on yonder beautiful and
happy shore, where we will again have a grand "reconfedera-
tion." We shed a tear over their flower-strewn graves. We
live after them. We love their memory yet. But one genera
tion passes away and another generation follows. We know
our loved and brave soldiers. We love them yet.
But when we pass away, the impartial historian will render
THE SURRENDER. 221
a true verdict, and a history will then be written in justification
and vindication of those brave and noble boys who gave their all
in fighting the battles of their homes, their countrv, and their
God.
"The United States has no North, no South, no East, n<
West." "We are one and undivided."
ADIEU.
My kind friends — soldiers, comrades, brothers, all: The
curtain is rung down, the foot-lights are put out, the audience
has all left and gone home, the seats are vacant, and the cold
walls are silent. The gaudy tinsel that appears before the foot-
lights is exchanged for the dress of the citizen. Coming genera
tions and historians will be the critics as to how we have acted
our parts. The past is buried in oblivion. The blood-red flag,
with its crescent and cross, that we followed for four long.
bloody, and disastrous years, has been folded never again to be
unfurled. We have no regrets for what we did, but we mourn
the loss of so many brave and gallant men who perished on tin
field of battle and honor. I now bid you an affectionate adieu.
But in closing these memoirs, the scenes of my life pass in
rapid review before me. In imagination, I am young again
to-night. I feel the flush and vigor of my manhood — am ju-t
twenty-one years of age. 1 hear the fife and drum playing
Dixie and Bonnie Blue Flag. I see and hear our fire-eating
stump-orators tell of the right of secession and disunion. I Bee
our fair and beautiful women waving their handkerchiefs and
encouraging their sweethearts to go to the war. I see the mar-
shaling of the hosts for "glorious war." I see the fine banner-
waving and hear the cry everywhere, "To arms! to arms!"
And I also see our country at peace and prosperous, our fine
cities look grand and gay, our fields rich in abundant harvests,
our people happy and contented. All these pass in imagination
before me. Then I look and see glorious war in all its splen
dor. I hear the shout and charge, the boom of artillery and
the rattle of small arms. I see gaily-dressed officers charging
backwards and forwards upon their mettled war horses, clothed
222
CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
in the panoply of war. I see victory and conquest upon flying
banners. I see our arms triumph in every battle. And, O.
my friends, I see another scene. I see broken homes and broken
hearts. I see war in all of its desolation. I see a country
ruined and impoverished. I see a nation disfranchised and
maltreated. ' I see a commonwealth forced to pay dishonest and
fraudulent bonds that were issued to crush that people. I see
sycophants licking the boots of the country's oppressor. I see
other and many wrongs perpetrated upon a conquered people.
But maybe it is but the ghosts and phantoms of a dreamy mind,
or the wind as it whistles around our lonely cabin-home. The
past is buried in oblivion. The mantle of charity has long ago
fallen upon those who think ■differently from us. We remember
no longer wrongs and injustice done us by any one on earth.
We are willing to forget and forgive those who have wronged
and falsified us. We look up above and beyond all these petty
groveling things and shake hands and forget the past. And
while my imagination is like the weaver's shuttle, playing back-
ward and forward through these two decades of time, I ask my-
self, Are these things real ? did they happen ? are they being
enacted to-day ? or are they the fancies of the imagination in
forgetful reverie ? Is it true that I have seen all these things ?
that they are real incidents in my life's history? Did I sec
those brave and noble countrymen of mine laid low in death and
weltering in their blood ? Did I see our country laid waste and
in ruins? Did I see soldiers marching, the earth trembling
and jarring beneath their measured tread ? Did I see the ruins
of smouldering cities and deserted homes ? Did I see my com-
rades buried and see the violet and wild flowers bloom over then
graves ? Did T see the flag of mv countrv, that T had followed
so long, furled to be no more unfurled forever ? Surely they
are but the vagaries of mine own imagination. Surely my fan
ciea are running wild to-night. But, hush! I now hear the
approach of battle. That low, rumbling sound in the west is
the roar of cannon in the distance. That rushing sound is the
fiend of soldiers. That quick, lurid glare is the flash that pre-
cedes the cannon's roar. And listen! that loud report that
THE SURRENDER. 228
makes the- earth tremble and jar and sway, is but the bursting
of a shell, as it screams through the dark, tempestuous night.
That black, ebon cloud, where the lurid lightning flickers and
flares, that is rolling through the heavens, is the Bmoke of battle;
beneath is being enacted a carnage of blood and death. Listen I
the soldiers are charging now. The flashes and roaring n<>\\
are blended with the shouts of soldiers and confusion of battle.
Hut. reader, time has brought his changes since I, ;i young
anient, and impetuous youth, burning with a lofty patriotism
first shouldered my musket to defend the rights of my country.
Lifting the veil of the past, I see many manly forms, bright
in youth and hope, standing in view by my side in Company II,
First Tennessee Regiment. Again I look and half those form?
are gone. Again, and gray locks and wrinkled faces and clouded
brows stand before me.
Before me, too, I see, not in imagination, hut in reality
my own loved Jennie, the partner of my joys and the sharer of
my sorrows, sustaining, comforting, and cheering my pathway
by her benignant smile; pouring the sunshine of domestic com-
fort and happiness upon our humble home; making life mor<
worth the living as we toil on up the hill of time together, with
the bright pledges of our early and constant love by our side
while the sunlight of hope ever brightens our pathway, dispell
ing darkness and sorrow as we hand in hand approach the valle\
of the great shadow.
The tale is told. The world moves on, the sun shines as
brightly as before, the flowers bloom as beautifully, the birds
sing their carols as sweetly, the trees nod and how their leaty
tops as if slumbering in the breeze, the gentle winds fan our
brow and kiss our cheek as they pass by, the pale moon sheds
her silvery sheen, the blue dome of the sky Bparkles with tli.
trembling stars that twinkle and shine and make nighl beautiful,
and the scene melts and gradually disappears forever.
THE END.
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